


The Deeper Illusion

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst, Dubious Consent, FBI Agent Jared Padalecki, M/M, Magic-Users, Mind Control, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Power Imbalance, Secrets, Thief Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11418033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: Agent Jared Padalecki of the FBI's Magical Injustices Division is just doing his job when his team manages to capture high-level magic user and thief extraordinaire, Jensen Ackles. The takedown seems way too easy for Jared's liking, but Jensen refuses to divulge his motives until an attack on his life forces him to give up a name. That name is JD Morgan - an infamous mind-weaver and all-round bad guy that the MID has been quietly hunting for years.Using Jensen as bait, the Bureau decides to tie him and Jared together in more ways than one, and neither is particularly happy about the new arrangement. However, in the process of luring Morgan out into the open, Jensen's precariously kept secrets threaten to be exposed, and he and Jared may just be forced to put their lives on the line.





	The Deeper Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Spn-J2-Bigbang](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/). My thanks to my artist [Riverofwind](http://riverofwind.livejournal.com/) who has been an absolute delight and managed to conjure up some of the loveliest, beautifulest art!! And also to Saltandburnboys for giving things a quick spit-shine at the last minute :D
> 
> Please check Riverofwind's art post out [RIGHT HERE](http://riverofwind.livejournal.com/7415.html) and leave her some big heapings of love <3<3  
>  
> 
> NOTE: The ending I've posted is not the finalised version. I will be revising over the next couple of days. Thank you for your patience!

Jared kept his distance. 

Until the raid had run its course and the perpetrator was well and truly under the MID's control he had to keep himself in check, his game-face on and burning curiosity tamped down. He might technically have been 'in charge' but he had no business getting himself mixed up in all the action. He was admittedly useless when it came to confrontation, even despite how good a shot he was with the specialised weapon strapped to his waist. Running his thumb along the edge of the holster was a bit of a nervous habit in times of high tension, but Jared made no move to take the gun into his hand, and he certainly had no intention of having to use it any time soon.

Where they were now was a long way from the firing range and far from a controlled environment, so he was more than happy to let his top five offensive agents take point on the apprehension. They were trained to fight with their own individual power, no weapons required, but even with five against one Jared didn't expect it all to go down smooth and easy. The particular man that they'd come here to capture… a guy like that wasn't going to let himself be taken in without a fight. Very likely of the long, arduous, and messy variety.

Hence Jared was keeping a nice, spacious cushion between himself and the danger zone.

It was all going down by the docks and a cool breeze was swirling up from the nearby water and prickling at Jared's neck, making him feel all clammy beneath his suit. The building they'd been led to was a run-down old warehouse, a rusty half-crumbled thing that was probably lucky to still be standing. Its status was listed as abandoned, but Jared had made sure the area was thoroughly pre-scanned all the same – so long as he could help it there would be no unnecessary civilian casualties on his watch. Of course it helped that the warehouse was as isolated as it was, and anything that made their job easier was alright by him. Then again, with no one else in the vicinity, it also meant that there was no way to conceal their approach. There was every possibility they were walking into a trap, but the team as a whole had decided to take the chance.

The target was the one who had made initial contact, having left one of his token wooden figurines for Jared to find, probably just to taunt him, so Jared had little doubt that they'd been led to their current location on purpose. He would see the FBI coming a mile away and would be ready to strike out, desperate and uncaring if things got chaotic. It was a concerning situation, one that had lost Jared hours and hours of sleep, but he knew they may not get another chance, not when it came to a slippery sucker like this one. The team's initial advance would need to be smooth and precise, but cautious of traps and unseen attacks – their target was not to be underestimated. 

Jared looked on as his team carefully made their way into position and closed in on the warehouse, their own attack mechanisms at the ready. At Jared's okay Brianna projected the signal and the agents had gone in fast and hard, covering all possible entry points including the roof. The first few seconds had been tense and strangely quiet, drawing a cold sweat to the surface of Jared's skin, but after that first singular strike, the dam cracked open and the attacks began to surge. 

Even from where he was standing, at a more than ample distance to keep himself safe, the smell of it all was so strong Jared had to turn away to stave off an impending coughing fit. It was like a full spectrum of scents – earth and spice and sugar-sweet and musk and something vaguely floral… His eyes were still watering when he forced himself to turn back, the thudding, crunching, rumbling becoming too intense to ignore. 

Jared had no eyes or ears inside on this occasion, so he was going to have to wait until the post-op briefings to know precisely what was going on inside, but then again he figured the explosions and the mist clouds and the mini cyclones that kept spilling out the windows and the cracks in the walls were pretty self-explanatory. Plumes of smoke tainted the air, clogging Jared's nose, but underneath it he could still find that familiar tang that told him he'd made the right call on this take-down.

He had to take a sudden step back when the ground beneath his feet shifted suddenly. After that everything seemed to go still.

"Brianna?"

Jared turned to his subordinate, her eyes clearing from a milky grey back into their usual bright blue. 

"It's all over, Boss. They've got him tethered. Some bruises and scrapes, but all agents are standing."

"And?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"And…?"

"Did they have to completely incapacitate him to take him down? Is he in need of medical attention or something? Our intention was to take him alive if I recall."

"Um, I mean, I guess he looks okay? Up til a second ago he was shooting off fireballs without batting an eye, and it didn't look like he was bleeding or anything…"

"He looks okay and he's not bleeding…" Jared muttered to himself, shaking his head, "You don't think that's a little odd? I know I'm not the combat expert here but didn't this little performance seem kinda _quick_ to you?"

"I, uh… I don't… I dunno, Boss? Maybe we just got a lucky break? Caught him off-guard?"

"I'll want to see full playback when we get back to HQ. And make sure those five have him tied up extra tight, please. He's not to be trusted."

He didn't wait for her response before stepping forward, hurrying over to the now even more beaten and battered-looking walls of the warehouse – the damage was extensive and it would almost certainly have to be demolished after this. Three of his agents were staggering out the front door as he approached, sweating and panting from the exertion, the stink of burnt-out magic lingering in the air. They were caked in soot and dust, their uniforms damp and windswept, as if they'd just encountered all four seasons in one well-crafted hit.

"You okay there, agents?"

The three of them nodded, giving tired salutes.

"Just lemme sleep for a week and I'll be all good, Sir," Matthew offered, sliding himself down onto the ground, "I know we're trained for this 'n all, but it's always a bit of a shock to the system when you're actually faced with someone like that. You can't really prepare for the onslaught. It's gnarly, man."

"None of you are hurt, though?"

Genevieve pointed back towards the door. "I think Alona might've cracked a rib, but we'll all live."

Slipping his hands in his pockets, Jared hummed in thought. "So he wasn't aiming to kill, it seems."

"Actually, now you mention it…" Gil pushed himself away from the shard of wall he'd been leaning on, "Everything he seemed to throw at us was easy to counter attack and his aim wasn't that great either – I'd be toast right now if one of those fireballs had struck centre mass. Are we sure this is the right guy and not some sort of decoy? I mean, before today he was so slick we didn't even know what The Ghost looked like and now suddenly he's all but incompetent?"

"Maybe he's sick or something?"

"Or hurt. Somewhere we can't see."

"Or maybe it's like Gil said and it's not him at all."

"It's him," Jared confirmed. There was not a shred of doubt in his mind. "But if you recall we're still not a hundred-percent that he's killed before, so maybe he just happens to be a criminal with a conscience. Otherwise I'm really not sure what his play is, so that part is what's next on the agenda. Anyway, keep up the good work, guys."

Jared made his way inside and dismissed Alona and Osric from their positions guarding the prisoner. Both of them looked wary about leaving him alone but Jared insisted. They'd taken all the proper precautions – power draining cuffs as well as a double-layered containment sphere – so he wasn't worried. Though maybe he should have been. He'd never been in the presence of a (presumed) Level 10 before.

He took a seat on the ground opposite, careful not to get too close to the pale blue force-field of the containment spheres – accidentally touching them with bare skin could get a person painfully zapped. Near his feet sat two small black cubes, positioned side by side and powering the spheres that kept a tight stranglehold on whatever power was contained therein. Usually one was enough to keep your regular detainee at bay, but any power categorised above a Level 8 could be unpredictable, so they were taking no chances.

Staring through the near-invisible outer shell of the spheres, Jared gave the man inside a good once over, committing him to memory. He'd been wanted by the Magical Injustices Division for nearly a decade, Jared personally having chased after him for going on four years now. To finally have such a big fish in their grasp was a great accomplishment, and likely the whole team would be commended for it, but Jared didn't believe for a second that this man would be in their custody if he didn't want to be. Pondering over the _why_ of it all was probably going to drive him insane.

Jared stared at the limp body, the combination of cuffs and containment likely having knocked him out cold – the shock of being cut off from one's power was a significant one, even for someone as low level as Jared. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for a Level 10… Strangely, though, he didn't appear to be in pain, and apart from being a little singed around the edges he didn't seem to be injured, which only served to further convince Jared of his theory. For some unknown reason this long-time criminal with a moral code wanted to be taken into FBI custody and he wanted it to look legit. 

Taking a deep breath, Jared let the mishmash of scents still clouding the room filter through him, tasting them across his tongue. There was one profile in particular that he could pick out with ease, though he'd never experienced it quite so fresh before. The combination of amber, old leather, and spiced honey was one he could probably identify in his sleep at this point. And now he had a real live person to attach it to. It was an opportunity he'd often wondered if he would ever get to have, such was this man's eternal mystery, such was his almost legendary status. But now here he was, well within reach, and just as much a flesh-and-blood man as Jared. 

So. Was the Green Eyed Ghost what he expected? Now that they were face to face, Jared wasn't entirely sure. 

He'd already guessed that the Ghost would have to be young enough to be agile and athletic while old enough to have the smarts and subtlety that such a 'hobby' entailed, and just by looking at him Jared had him pegged for about thirty five – just a little older than himself. He met all the criteria Jared had inferred over time. Not merely the build and athleticism of his body, but also that he was handsome enough to charm his way through sticky situations, and shit, the guy was _stupidly_ handsome, even while out cold. Jared almost wanted to hate himself for thinking it except that he honestly couldn't imagine anyone disagreeing with him. That said, there was definitely something about his pallor, about his overall appearance, that had Jared's intuition whirring to life, but as the moments ticked by he couldn't quite pick what it was that could have sent his thoughts off on such a path.

His scrutinising was interrupted when the Ghost finally came around. A few groans of displeasure accompanied the frown on his lips, his wrists pulling momentarily at the cuffs until it was clear they weren't going to move anytime soon. Then his eyelids cracked open just a sliver, but it was enough for Jared to see – the Green Eyed Ghost really did have green eyes. Huh.

_Who'd have thought._

"So this is the welcoming party?" His voice was deeper than Jared would have expected, raspy with exhaustion. "Did you pull the short stick or did I?"

Jared kept his face blank. "The welcoming party to what, exactly?"

"Uh, my impending incarceration?"

"You seem pretty chipper about that outcome. More than most felons I encounter at any rate."

The man shrugged, evasive. "Life is a series of challenges, this is just the next one in line."

"That's one way to look at it, I guess. Anything you want to say before that challenge becomes a reality?"

He looked thoughtful, then his mouth quirked up in a sly smile. "Nice to finally meet you, Supervisory Special Agent Padalecki."

"Looked me up, did you? I'm flattered." It was hard for Jared to keep his expression in check, to not be ruffled by something so ordinary yet personal as his name. He'd known, without a doubt, that the Ghost had been watching them – know your enemy, etc., etc. – but there was no way to be sure just how much information he'd helped himself to.

"What can I say? I couldn't help but be intrigued by you. You're an interesting figure in an interesting position."

"Got me all figured out then, huh?"

"More like just a _bit_ figured out. Can't go overestimating myself here."

"And what is it that you know, exactly?"

"I'm a keen observer of people, and I'm not too proud to admit I've spent some time spying on you. You're Talent isn't the most obvious, but it's useful. Excellent when fine-tuned. You're a rare breed, and that's something I can relate to. Honestly, I've been wanting to meet you."

It was more of an answer than he'd expected to get, if he were being honest, especially since the Ghost was (so far) under no real obligation to talk. Jared had just been about to reply when the sound of footsteps made him stop himself short, and not a moment later Gil was trudging up to his side, reaching down for the two power cubes.

"Truck's ready for transport, Boss."

There was so much he still wanted to say, so much he still wanted to ask, but the moment was gone, and the Ghost's face was no longer as open or playful as it had been just seconds before.

"Good. Let's go."

They all got to their feet and the Ghost let himself be led to the MID transport convoy without complaint, the containment spheres only powering down once he was safely in the confines of the truck. Jared could track the changeover from the look on the man's face, the minute relief followed by the immense discomfort (and pain?) of the truck's inbuilt magic inhibitors taking hold. Even the toughest customers couldn't hide that feeling, like a limb being suddenly (and temporarily) cut off.

"Any last words before we turn you over to Interrogation?"

The Ghost propped his chin in his cuffed hands with one last smile.

"You can call me Jensen."

 

+///+

 

THREE YEARS PRIOR

 

Getting cozy against the window of an empty office, wedged in behind the desk so anyone walking past wouldn't see him, Jensen settled in to watch. In the building across the street, approximately two floors down, the FBI were in the beginning stages of their newest investigation – an investigation instigated by none other than himself. 

There, on the thirty-fifth floor, was a high-end but independent gallery, the type that showcased particular collections of items for a particular level of clientele. Jensen just so happened to be an expert in the field of procurement and he'd been tasked with locating and obtaining a certain item, an item that was now in his possession as of two a.m. the previous night. It had been a tricky one to get his hands on, the gallery's security system was top-notch and specifically tuned to target anyone using untoward magic. But Jensen wasn't an expert for nothing, he'd just had to come up with a little magic that wasn't considered 'untoward' and find a way to make it work. 

The solution had been simple in the end, albeit requiring a delicate hand to properly execute. Hijacking a pair of gloves from the cloakroom had been the easy part, but increasing the air density just enough to inflate and manipulate the gloves yet not set off the alarm had required some intense concentration. Once retrieved, he'd then floated the item up and out of the gallery through an air vent, easy as pie, and returned the gloves to the cloakroom. Of course, he'd done it all from the safety of the empty office space one floor up. If anyone asked, he could safely say he'd never set foot in the gallery. There was simply no need. 

But then, he wasn't always so hands-off with his procurements. In fact he preferred to go old school when he could – dressed all in black, hacking the security feeds, climbing through elevator shafts, safe cracking, the whole shebang. But there was a time and place for everything, and part of his instructions on this particular jaunt had been 'no nonsense'. So, yeah. Jensen could take a hint.

Having that item in his hands, though… Just the thought made him shiver in his over-warm little cubby hole behind the desk. He hadn't asked what it was. Really, he didn't need to know. The exact location and security measures surrounding it were all the info he required. Only once he'd finally retrieved it did he wonder about its purpose. It seemed to be a large orb made of marble, brown with age, and inlaid with gold. The moment it had made contact with his skin he'd nearly dropped it, but with his quick reflexes had managed to slip it into his bag instead. It had felt… like there was a black hole inside it, like it was sucking something out of him and into the great vortex within. For a moment afterward his hands had felt unusually cold and stiff, but by the time he'd slipped himself out of the building, completely unseen, they were back to normal once again. Why ever the client would want to possess something like that, it didn't bear thinking about.

And now the FBI were on the case, swarming the gallery like flies. 

_Eye, distance, power._

With a half-hearted wave of his hand Jensen enhanced his own vision and peered down curiously through the windows. The curator was being interviewed, the security mechanisms were being inspected, the display where the orb had previously been sitting was being photographed and tested for magical residue. Jensen knew the drill. Just as he knew that they would indeed find some faint residue of his magic left behind – it was nearly impossible not to, hence his usual preference for more 'hands on' methods – but what they would find would end up being so faint there existed no means for properly testing it. He truly had a fine artist's touch, even if he did say so himself.

Oh, and there was also the small matter of his calling card. Just a little 'hello' he liked to leave for his friends in law enforcement. But then, that was nothing new.

The comings and goings of the agents continued as normal, and Jensen considered finally getting up and leaving (he was only there to make sure he'd covered all his bases, after all) so of course that was when something of note decided to happen.

A new face arrived. 

A handsome face. Young. Tall. Seemingly with a superior position he didn't seem old enough to possess.

Jensen bit his lip – finally something interesting.

The guy checked in with the Interrogator, the tech people, the forensics team, making sure things were running smoothly no doubt. Jensen scribbled a symbol across his forehead with his fingertip and then blinked, watching the room light up in a way that had nothing to do with the LEDs in the ceiling. Nearly everyone inside that tiny, fortified gallery was drawing on magic of some kind or other. With the spell doing its job, Jensen could see the Interrogator's tendrils probing at the curator's brain, pressing all those little spots that would make her talk, he could see the forensics agents freezing sections of air, removing them for testing, and pulling 'history' from all the objects in the room to try and suss out what had happened. All their efforts would be fruitless, but they were yet to figure that out. The new guy, on the other hand… 

His magic was weak, Jensen could tell that much, but it was so very _refined_. Just that one small fact revealed a lot about the man. Namely that he had to have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, to have that sort of standing in the Magical Injustices Division of the FBI with _that_ low a magic level… Jensen's interest was well and truly piqued.

Special Agent Man remained in the vicinity of the now empty display, breathing at it and sniffing the air. He then turned and walked over to the window, rolling Jensen's little calling card around in his latex-wrapped hand while he stared out into the city. Jensen had to wonder if the guy was keen enough to know he was watching, or if maybe he just had one of those gut feelings. Either way, Jensen would have to look into it. He needed to know the name of the smokin' hot new hotshot in town.

A sharp twinge in his left wrist reminded him that he couldn't hang around much longer. There were things to take care of and not a lot of time in which to do so. If he got back late… well, that just wasn't a notion he could entertain.

He looked down, removing the glamour from over his arm, and wincing at the state of his skin around the bracer he wore there. It would be even worse underneath the thing. But it was locked in place (at his own insistence, no less) so Rob would have to do the honours. Jensen couldn't say he was looking forward to it, for several reasons. One of which was that Rob had a terrible soft spot for him, would be fussing over him all afternoon once he got a look at Jensen's arm. And the bracer, of course. It was exceptional work by anyone's standards, but all things – whether tool, weapon, or accessory – all things had their limits.

 

+///+

 

Jared slumped into his chair, elbows dropping down onto his desk as he sighed. 

What had he gotten himself into? It was a question he asked himself whenever this particular occasion arose, which was far too often for his liking.

On his desk sat two boxes – one packed with physical evidence, and the other full to the brim with paper. Files. Or rather, a _single_ file. Fuck, there were encyclopaedias that were smaller. It was ridiculous.

But the so-called Ghost was anything but ridiculous. He was brilliant. And talented. And had managed to dodge any and all contact with the authorities for years already. He had different styles, different methods, and changed it up nearly every single time he snatched himself a new prize. He was clearly very powerful – some theorised that he was a Level 10, of all things – and he used that power to great effect. But then on other occasions it seemed he didn't use any magic at all. It was confusing, to say the least. Was he taunting them? Keeping them guessing? Or was it all for his own amusement? 

Whatever the reason, whatever the method, the only way they ever knew for certain that the Ghost had pulled a particular heist was by his calling card.

Placing a freshly labelled baggie on the desk, Jared stared at its contents: a lone animal figurine carved out of wood. Probably hand made. Not much bigger than a matchbox. With little jade green beads for eyes.

They didn't call him the Green Eyed Ghost for nothing.

This time around it was an elephant, and Jared tossed it into the evidence box along with the owl, the wolf, the horse, and whatever else was in there. So far as he could tell there was no reasoning for whichever animal the Ghost happened to leave at a scene, but that didn't mean there wasn't one, just that they hadn't figured it out yet. Naturally they'd tried testing the figurines for any DNA or magical residue, they tried it every time they got a new one (just in case) but each time they were foiled. The little figures were always and consistently purified by the smoke of sage and burdock – an ancient trick that most people in modern society (Jared included) had forgotten about, but that was basically the magical equivalent of bleach. All that the little animals were good for now was taking up space and giving off a vaguely fresh and earthy scent. Neither of which was helpful.

Feeling a headache coming on, Jared pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved his container of goodies. He went straight for the rainbow sour belts and folded one into his mouth with a sigh of relief. Sure Jared's power was of the quiet and subtle variety, and it was a pretty niche one at that, but it still took it out of him after he'd been using it all morning. He hadn't needed to do much at the scene – he'd known straight away that it was the Ghost's handiwork, and he was already as familiar with the scent of the Ghost's magic as he was probably ever going to be. It was just a pity that his ability to attribute smell and taste to even the faintest hints of a magical aura couldn't be physically quantified in some way. The Ghost never left enough of a trace for anyone on their highly qualified forensics team to get a decent read on the residue, so Jared just had to put up with the fact that his nose and tongue could officially only get them so far. Only some manner of measurable proof would secure a conviction, and that was only if they could ever manage catch the guy.

Turning his head he set his sights on a third box, one that was sitting on the floor apart from the others. This one was full of mostly cold case files, ones that Jared was almost certain the Ghost had something to do with. None of them had ever been labelled as such, but that was hardly surprising. There were no wooden figures left at any of the scenes, indeed many of them pre-dated the first figurine the FBI had ever found, and there were aspects of the crimes that Jared could only describe as haphazard and sloppy. The Ghost was many things but he was _not_ sloppy. 

However. 

There was something in the scent profiles of the evidence for each of the cases that had tugged at Jared's senses. Thanks to SAC Beaver he'd been allowed a walkthrough of the evidence storage facility and given permission to take a look at anything that called to him. Unfortunately none of them were up for giving any easy answers. A lot of the contents' magical residues were degraded from being years old, and practically all of it was 'contaminated' from too many perpetrators at the scene followed by too many agents investigating it thereafter. But even then… beneath all those layers, Jared still just _knew_.

He would keep working at it. Ploughing away. And maybe one day he'd get the answers he sought. One day… Somewhere in the distant future…

_Fuuuuuuuck._

Stuffing another candy into his mouth, some of the tension in his body finally started to abate. There was nothing like a good recharge to the system. He was just glad that all it took for his magic's Source to replenish was a couple of mouthfuls of something extra sugary. He knew plenty of people whose recharge methods were so obscure and specific it was absurd. Looking in a mirror at the left side of your face and winking? Drinking down a whole mug of hour-old coffee in one go? Stomping bare feet on a concrete surface? Mother Nature was wild.

As for the Ghost… It was hardly a surprise that there wasn't anything in any of the boxes of files or evidence to suggest what his Source might have been – without study and observation that was needle-in-an-infinite-haystack kinda stuff. And nor was there any way to know what his specific Talent might have been. They had pages and pages of circumstantial evidence and expert conjecture about the types of spells the Ghost had supposedly used, but it was all so random and nonsensical, Jared didn't even have the foggiest notion of where to start guessing. The only thing it _did_ confirm was that he had to be High Level, at least 8 or 9 (or even 10, if the rumours held true) in order to be so proficient in such a broad scope of magical fields.

The notion scared him a bit, if he were being honest with himself. Having all that power, being able to do almost anything you wanted with it? Your average High Leveler was only able to reach max power with their one or two special Talents, and then everything else capped off at a couple of levels less. As far as his general spell ability went, Jared was limited to your average, uninspiring things like being able to reheat a mug of coffee, or summoning his car keys from wherever he'd left them. Defensive spells were basically a non-event for him, hence he was one of only a few active field agents in the MID to carry a gun – usually an anti-magic stun-gun type thing that the FBI's Research and Development team had come up with. He was a reasonable shot with both the anti-magic gun and guns with old school bullets, but having to carry one was also a constant reminder of how much he didn't fit in, how much harder he had to work to show that he deserved to be there, stationed in the position that he was.

The time and effort he'd dedicated to the Ghost's case… it was more than his fair share. Much more. Jared couldn't decide if he was simply out to prove something, if he was obsessed, or jealous, or maybe all three put together. If ever anything in his life was going to drive him stark raving mad, the Ghost would likely be it.

 

+///+

 

BACK TO THE PRESENT

 

Putting criminals behind bars had its perks, Jared could attest to that. The accomplishment of closing a case, the commendations that came with it, and not to mention the satisfaction of dishing out a hearty serving of justice to someone who deserved it. But none of it made him feel any better about prisons. There was just something about them that irked him. Whether it was the solid walls and metal bars, security measures at every turn, the people all crammed in together, tensions high, he couldn't exactly say, but having to pay one a visit for any reason was a part of the job he really didn't care for.

Even worse was that on this occasion he was being escorted to the maximum security wing, an area that he'd never had to visit before and was not looking forward to. The guards on either side of him were nearly as tall as he was and probably twice as wide, solid with strength. They carried beefed up anti-magic weapons that would take your average Level 8 down with one hit – a fact Jared knew because it was a requirement of the MID to know as much about anti-magic arms as possible, for both offensive and defensive purposes, and especially given Jared's 'situation'. He had decided long ago that he would do everything in his power to never have to use his gun, however. He trusted his team and their abilities. Or, that was his excuse and he was sticking to it.

"You ready, chief?"

Jared turned to the guard who'd spoken and gave a sharp nod. No he wasn't goddamn ready, but he didn't exactly have much of a choice.

An alarm buzzed and the final gate opened, a gate that came complete with multiple warning signs and a shocking orange paint job – they were passing into a zero magic zone. Jared took one last inhale from the onslaught on the senses that was the area for 'regular' inmates and stepped into the void. The walls themselves were completely lined with inhibitors, crunching down on his meagre powers like a garbage compacter on an empty juice box. It made Jared feel instantly nauseous, like he was going to throw up, and the smell certainly didn't help. While he would have thought a no magic zone would be clear of any auras or residue and therefore smell like nothingness (whatever that might smell like) he could not have been more wrong. Rather, it had the scent of death about it. The rotting stink of magic that had been cut off from its Source and left to putrefy. 

He hated that this was the way of things, but when your prisoners were that powerful…

Jared was only given a moment to adjust, and then they were on their way again, the guards flanking him as they made their way to the end of the corridor. Another gate was pulled aside and Jared was prompted to enter alone, the room empty but for a couple of chairs, one of which was already occupied.

"Long time no see, Agent."

And there he was. The Ghost, who now had a face and a name (if still only a first name) was ready and waiting, with nowhere to go this time. Jared had been granted thirty minutes to complete his questioning and hopefully get some answers – not a whole lot of time, so he would have to use it wisely. Although Jensen was still very much an unknown quantity, meaning there was no telling how much or how little he would be willing to spill.

"I'd shake your hand, but… well…"

Jensen shrugged and waved his hands around, causing the chains connecting his cuffed wrists to the floor to rattle loudly. Even in such an environment they still had Jensen cuffed with the power drainers, showing just how much (or rather, how _little_ ) they trusted him. And Jared supposed that was the right thing to do. When it came to someone so powerful, there was really no end to the precautions they could take, just as there was no telling what they could accomplish given the slightest chance. Jared was well aware just how slippery Jensen was, despite his apparent ease with the situation.

That said, Jared didn't think he was imagining the tightness around those green eyes, and that painted on smile. Even as unreasonably good as he looked in that tan jumpsuit, Jared wasn't fooled.

"So, Jensen," Jared began, taking a seat on the plastic chair a good fifteen feet away from the other man, "We've got half an hour to talk. It's up to you whether we can make it count for something."

"What? No 'hi, how've you been?'"

"Cut the crap." He really didn't have the patience for taking any shit today. "I hate being in this place, it smells like a cesspit from hell, so I have no intentions of coming back here again. If you have any desire to help yourself in any way, you need to start talking. It might be your last chance before you're officially sentenced, because after that there'll be no help from anywhere or anyone."

The look he got in response was shrewd and calculating, and Jared was suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. Little ol' (barely) Level 3 Jared stuck in a stone box with a (now confirmed) Level 10 criminal with no easy way out. That thought really put things in perspective a bit, and rattled his bones a little in the process. 

"Even with your magic locked away you can still use your Talent? Interesting."

"Not to its fullest extent but—"

"I imagine it must be tied in with your senses, so it can't be turned off completely. That's not something you see very often. You're full of surprises, Agent."

Jared huffed a sigh, letting his guard drop a little. Should he have expected anything else from a guy who'd done nothing but taunt the FBI for the last decade? "We're not here to talk about me. So if you're not going to give me anything just tell me now so I can stop wasting my time here."

"And what am I supposed to tell you exactly? Have you got a list of ticky boxes that if I check off enough of them they'll go easy on me?" Jensen scoffed and slumped back in his chair, chains pulling tight, "Yeah, I don't think so."

"So you're not even going to try? You're just going to take a maximum sentence and be content with getting out of here as an old man?"

"Oh, spare me."

Jensen's eyes rolled as he turned his head and appeared to check out of the conversation. 

If Jared really wanted to leave it like that, he could have. He could have easily gotten to his feet and walked to the gate and called for the guard to escort him out. But he couldn't do it. He'd felt it the whole time (even back at the warehouse that day) this distinct feeling that Jensen wanted to talk, that he had something important to say, but clearly there was something stronger holding him back. It bothered Jared to no end.

"So that's it, then. I mean, I don't understand it, why you would condemn yourself like this, but I guess you've got your reasons—"

"I don't know what you want from me, Jared. My surname or something, maybe? So you can look me up? Try to understand me? See what kind of childhood trauma I experienced that made me want to steal things? Well, let me save you some time – even if told you, which I'm not going to, what you would find wouldn't tell you _shit_. My parents were perfectly fine and don't deserve their good name being dragged through the mud. As for this business I'm in? Giving you names or dates or inside info isn't going to change a damn thing. I'll still be stuck in this 'cesspit from hell', and there will always be others out there who'll take my place. Probably with a higher body count, but that won't be my problem, now, will it."

"…I see."

Silence prevailed. And Jared could only put up with so much. So he left.

~

Striding back to his car and shaking off the lingering ick-factor, Jared finally eased up, rolling the visit's non-revelations around in his head. Jensen hadn't given him much (or anything, really) but he _had_ given Jared's lateral thinking a bit of a jolt. 

His initial searches for 'first name: Jensen' and an approximate age had gotten him nowhere, but perhaps he'd been going about it the wrong way. Once he got back to the office it was going to be all about kids named Jensen – kids who'd died, kids who'd disappeared, kids who…

Jared pulled his phone from his pocket. He had a favour to call in.

 

+///+

 

The sun was nice on his face. Warm. Refreshing. And it was good to get some fresh air. 

It was just a pity the means actually had no bearing on the ends the warden was aiming for. But Jensen could only blame himself for that. He had them all convinced that light from the sun was his Source and a little bit of time out in it made for a minor recharge. Total bullshit, of course, but Jensen wasn't giving up anything he didn't absolutely have to. And it wasn't as if a few minutes breathing the outside air wasn't welcome. The prison was required by law to facilitate fifteen minutes of recharge time for inmates every three days (so long as the Source itself was within the confines of the law) and generally that was the bare minimum for keeping a person who was not using their magic in good health. 

Jensen knew he wasn't in the best of health to start with, but thankfully the nature of his power allowed him to go longer without recharging than most people. So for now he was just holding out, hoping something would change before he reached breaking point. Whether that breaking point would end up being because of his own body, or because of some outside influence, he'd just have to wait and see. 

Standing in the middle of the roof-less yard, hands on his hips, Jensen stared out the tiny window set into the wall, looking at whatever nothingness was out there. The surrounding inhibitors were pushing at him from every angle, doing their best to squash his magic down, and making a valiant attempt as far as a government facility was concerned, but it didn't really bother Jensen either way. His familiarity with inhibitors, drainers, and whatever else, meant that it wasn't his greatest worry. It was merely a discomfort (albeit a horrible one) but one that he could live with for the moment, one that he could accept with a shrug. There were others in his wing of the prison who would probably rather be dead. He could hear them screaming at various points during the day and night, pleading for 'just a little bit', 'just for a minute'. 

Jensen knew that feeling, he really did. Deep down inside him it probably still existed somewhere, some young and innocent version of himself was probably crying and screaming to be set free, but his older, far more jaded self would never let him see the light of day.

The loud clang of the door opening interrupted his thoughts, and Jensen turned, expecting to find one of guards there to tell him his time was up. But instead it was another inmate. One who looked like he had a violent agenda. There was only one possible person who could have orchestrated such a thing, and it gave Jensen no comfort to know that he'd been found.

_That was quick._

Despite what he knew must be coming, Jensen grinned. "Well, gee, you weren't just listening to my inner thoughts now, were you? 'Cause I coulda sworn I asked for something to change, and now here you are – truly amazing!"

The man frowned, obviously confused. 

"What? You gotta death wish do ya?"

"Not per se, but I'm an open-minded kinda guy."

"Whatever. All I know is, I do this, I'm gettin' outta here."

Jensen sighed, eyeing the shiv the man was doing a poor job of trying to hide. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure JD promised you a whole bunch of things."

"And what d'you know about it, huh?"

"I know that JD might hold up his end of getting you out, but it's more likely to be in a body bag than on your own two feet. Just sayin'."

"I've got a solid deal. You know nothin'."

He could see the impending pain crawling over the edge of the horizon. The guy's moves weren't clean, but he had the intent of a man who knew what he had to do, who'd likely killed before. In another time and another place Jensen might have fought back, clawed his way out of the situation. His magic was hovering there, just under the surface, and he could have reached for it if he really wanted to, thrown the guy back, used the last of his reserves to blast his way out of those walls. But such actions would come with consequences he couldn't suffer and questions he couldn't answer, regardless of who would find him on the other side. As for a physical fight, he probably could have taken the guy. It would be one-on-one and Jensen had a few years training under his belt. But even if he took this one guy down, there would be others. There were always others. There was no telling how many JD could have gotten to, and they would all come for him eventually. One by one. If they had to.

So why delay the inevitable?

Jensen dodged one strike, then two, threw a couple of punches in for good measure, then squeezed his eyes shut and hoped for the best.

 

+///+

 

He'd said he wasn't going back there, and he'd meant it, yet there he was, taking long strides down the corridor as he was led to the medical wing. 

Only such a dire situation could have changed his mind, and only one that had anything to do with Jensen. Fucking hell. Jared felt like such a sucker. He was just so desperate to make something happen with the case besides having the Ghost rotting away behind bars. He'd come away from his previous visit knowing in his gut that there was something else going on, something bigger, and while he'd had some luck with his enquiries, none of it had really given him any insight as to what it could be. Callous though it was, he was hoping that being injured within an inch of his life might finally be what encouraged Jensen to start talking.

"Agent Padalecki?"

Jared turned toward the doctor, taking the file that was offered and flipping it open. He flicked immediately past the pages of medical jibberish and went straight to the incident report. He didn't much like what he saw.

"So what's the damage?"

"Numerous stab wounds to the chest and abdomen with a handmade weapon, plus a couple of broken ribs and plenty of bruising, including to the head. Messy, but nothing terribly vital was hit. We've been monitoring the concussion. Unfortunately our best healer is on leave at the moment, so we've had to make do with the surgery and only mild healing, hence why he's been out for a couple of days. We've also had trouble getting a read on his magic levels – they've been very unstable and we haven't been able to figure out what—"

"They haven't found who did it?" Jared cut in, not really caring too much about Jensen's magic levels. The guy was a Level 10 – if there was an actual problem there, he figured it would have to be pretty obvious.

"Uh, no, not to my knowledge. There was a fight in the cafeteria occurring at the same time, so most of the guards were occupied and therefore didn't notice the attacker's comings and goings. The inmate had lost a lot of blood by the time they found him."

"Right. Thanks."

Jared handed the file back and finally headed into the recovery room, flashing the guard his badge and waiting for the guy to vacate to the other side of the door. Whether they were guarding Jensen for the sake of keeping him in, or someone else out, Jared couldn't exactly say, but one look at the Ghost's current state confirmed that there was no way he was going anywhere for a while yet. 

Whoever had shivved him (providing it had been just the one guy) had seemingly taken to Jensen with his fists as well. His face and chest were a mess of discoloured bruises and the state of Jensen's knuckles wasn't looking too crash hot either, but at least he'd tried to fight back – that meant he didn't want to die, right? Moving closer to the bed, Jared leaned down to where one wrist was cuffed to the railing and took a sniff, just on the off chance he could pick up a scent. But the moment he did it, Jensen's hands twitched, his eyes slowly blinking open through one normal and one horribly swollen eye socket.

"Don't bother," Jensen said with a laboured breath, his voice rough and grating, "He's not worth your time."

"You think so, huh?"

"Probably already dead."

"You seem sure about that…"

"Wasn't me. Jackass."

Jared rolled his eyes and sighed. "This would all be a shitload easier if you would just tell me what the hell is going on. And don't try to bullshit me again, Ackles, 'cause you know I'll know."

To his credit, Jensen didn't even flinch. He just rolled with Jared's little revelation as if he'd been expecting it. And heck, maybe he had.

"Ah, so you found me. Bet that made you feel special. You better have kept it to yourself, though, or we're gonna have a problem you 'n' me."

"Yes, I've kept it to myself. For now, anyway. Not that I've found much, but I do have my theories."

"Such as?"

He wasn't usually the type to just give up his info, but Jared figured a little give and take was what it was going to require to get Jensen to open up. "I found your parents' and sister's names, your birth record, a home address from way back when, school records, and what looks like record of a long hospital admission when you were five – I'm guessing you had onset sickness. Then when you hit about twelve, all four of you seem to disappear off the face of the earth. Admittedly, it took me a minute. But once the WITSEC idea hit me, I traced backwards and found enough signs to say I was probably right."

"Yeah. It was all my fault, that whole business. I was having a hard time of it and there was an accident…" Even behind all the bruising, Jared could see the discomfort on Jensen's face. "But look, you have to believe me when I say that all this stuff from my past has nothing to do with what's going on now. You need to leave it alone. Do that, and maybe one day I'll tell you what happened back then on my own terms." 

"Fine. I can leave it alone. But you're gonna need to give me something else in exchange. Something solid."

Jared let his offer sink in, watching the strain pass over Jensen's features as he appeared to weigh up the pros and cons of his situation. Surely his not talking at this point was a death sentence, or at the very least it made Jensen a prime target – Jensen had to know that. Whoever had attacked him (or rather, whoever had ordered the attack) had gone to a lot of trouble to orchestrate the event, so Jared couldn't imagine that that would be the end of it, especially since Jensen had managed to survive. And being an injured, sitting duck only made him all the more vulnerable. As far as Jared could read it, Jensen either needed to cough up something valuable enough to get him protection, or he was probably going to get put down in the very near future.

"I guess I haven't got much of a choice."

"You really don't."

"Fuck my life." 

The sigh that spilled from Jensen's lips was filled with despair wrought by resignation. Whatever he was about to say, Jared could just sense that it was going to change things in a big way.

"I've got one name for you. And I need you to promise me that you will not repeat it to anyone, or write it down, or Google it, or literally _anything_ until you speak to the most senior agent you can find, one you can trust. This is a very delicate situation and—"

"Seriously, Jensen, just tell—"

"Jared, this is _so_ far above your paygrade it's not funny."

Jared was shocked into silence by the vehemence of Jensen's words. Whatever he was going on about, he was dead serious.

"Please. Find someone you can trust. Someone with some sway in the Bureau. And tell them I'm very familiar with a man named… JD Morgan."

"…"

"…"

"That's it?"

"Why? You heard of him?"

"I… Not that I recall?"

"Yeah, didn't think so," Jensen sneered, "Like I said, way above your paygrade. I mean, did you even know that the Magical Injustice Division has an off-the-books task force called Mirage Team 2? Because they do. And they're going to need to hear about this because they're the only ones who might have half a chance of helping me. But if you go tactlessly asking about it you'll be out of a job and buried in legal shit and turned into a zombie by High Level Interrogators so fast your head will spin clean off. _Understand_?"

Jared gulped, unsure how a beaten-up man cuffed to a bed could have him so on-edge all of a sudden. "Umm. Yes. Yes, I think so."

"Good. Now scram. I got fucking stabbed and I need a minute to sleep it off."

~

Even as he left the prison grounds, rattled though he was, Jared didn't really pick up on the seriousness of the situation until he was back at HQ and safely ensconced in SAC Beaver's office. The look of pure shock, blood visibly draining from the man's face, as Jared uttered that name… It finally clicked that maybe Jensen hadn't been playing a game with him this whole time, and perhaps there had been _very_ good reason for his evasiveness. 

"What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in, son?"

Beaver waved off several spells with his right hand even as he was picking up the phone and pressing his number one speed dial. The wave of peppery scent that hit his nostrils had Jared stifling a sneeze, telling him that whatever spells the SAC had just put in motion were strong ones. 

"Yeah, I think we may have a problem," Beaver groused into the handset, scratching at his beard, "A little something to do with our favourite brain-worm… Sure, will do."

The handset went down with a thunk, and the sudden tension was palpable. Jared squirmed in his seat, wondering if there was something he should be doing, or saying.

"Uh, should I—"

"You and I are going on a little field trip at the invitation of the Director," Beaver cut in as though Jared hadn't even spoken, "And when we're done you're going to submit to a Locked Lips enchantment. Agreed?"

"I… I guess?"

"Great. Follow me."

What followed was a little like something out of a spy movie, and Jared was more than a little stunned that such things as secret doorways and hidden office floors actually existed, in his very own building no less. Also, it was good that the Locked Lips enchantment would be a requirement, because Jared didn't know if he'd be able to shut up about it otherwise. The whole thing was insane.

That said, there was no way for him to know precisely what it was he was seeing as they passed by various offices and research labs, most of it labelled with only initials or number codes. The only thing that registered was the overwhelming smell of magic, so strong it sent him into a coughing fit. Beaver gave him a couple of slaps on the back and hustled him along, clearly in a hurry. They finally passed into a room marked MT2 – _Mirage Team 2?_ his brain supplied – where the Director was already waiting.

"Sorry about all the fuss, young Jared, but it's a necessary evil. Now, I'm going to need you to tell me about your latest arrest – Jensen."

Jared took his time clearing his throat, trying desperately to get his thoughts in order. "Um. What, specifically, do you need to know?"

"No, not specifically. I need to know _everything_."

 

+///+

 

Jensen wasn't best keen on being kept in a box. 

He'd endured this sort of thing before – he didn't like it then and he didn't like it now. He wanted out before he went and did something stupid out of total frustration, which he feared might not be far off.

Following his disclosure of Morgan's name to Jared, Jensen had known it would only be a matter of time before his situation changed drastically. There had been no way to know what the MID would or wouldn't do with him, but he'd been backed into a corner by that point, so he'd had no choice but to take the chance. Knowing that JD was still after him, and even knew where he was, was so much more unfavourable an outcome than whatever the FBI might do to him. 

So he'd done it, he'd let slip that one perilous name, and several hours later he'd been escorted (still bed-bound) to some sort of medical facility deep beneath the FBI headquarters – no doubt a secret section of the MID. The healers there had fixed him up to about ninety-percent health in a matter of moments, and then they'd resituated him on a cushy little bed in this cushy little box, like a prize science experiment. Granted it was nice to be able to get up and about again, even if it was in a space not all that much bigger than a jail cell, but he had no illusions that a cell was exactly what it was. The bed was nice too, he supposed, if only because between the healing and fending off the constant mind probes they were trying to slip inside his head he was seriously fucking exhausted. They'd even put UV lamps in the ceiling to simulate the sun, but naturally it wasn't going to do shit for him. Still having the authorities convinced that solar energy was his Source was certainly a double-edged sword.

Slumping down onto the bed, Jensen dropped his head in his hands, finally thinking about the one thing he didn't want to think about. The walls of his little box were lined with inhibitors, as was expected, but they had removed the drainer cuffs from his wrists to give him a little bit of 'breathing room'. Honestly, it was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because it eased the pain a little, but bad because he had to work harder to keep himself in check. His own magic draining cuff was working away at his left wrist, hidden behind a delicate and virtually undetectable glamour spell of his own making. He probably had a few weeks of life left in it so long as he was careful, but even now he could feel it gradually weakening. The anxiety of not knowing what was coming next was wearing on him, because if they were planning on keeping him hidden there in the box, there was no way in hell he'd be able to get a message out, let alone have anything smuggled back in for him. He just had to hold out hope that they intended to use him in some way, which would mean being out in the world again – a considerable risk whatever way you spun it.

"You look troubled."

Jensen raised his head, finding a tall man standing on the other side of the glass front of his box. He was seriously skinny, practically gaunt, but Jensen could somehow still sense the power radiating off of him – he had to be an upper Level user, without a doubt.

So it was time for the next stage then, was it?

"Troubled is a pretty accurate description, sure."

"I would be too, if I had a power hungry maniac like JD Morgan after me."

Jensen scoffed. "That's putting it lightly."

"True. But if we had to be precise about it we'd be here all day listing negative descriptors, and I think you'll agree with me when I say we probably don't have the time."

"Who are you, again?" He gave the guy a visible up-and-down, trying to suss him out. He was clearly someone of import, someone who had the means to get stuff done, but Jensen refused to go into it blindly, whatever 'it' might turn out to be.

"I'm FBI Director Julian Richings, and also the head of the Mirage Team. I'm told that you've heard of us."

So Jared had blabbed. Entirely.

_Great._

But Jensen supposed it had been inevitable. Jared might have been an SSA, but he was obviously woefully ill-equipped as far as protecting himself from mental attacks was concerned. And this guy Richings had Interrogator written all over him. He would have to tread veeery carefully.

"I've heard of you. And if I'm being honest, I probably know more about your little Team than you'd be comfortable with. Although, I never did hear what happened to Mirage Team 1. Irreconcilable differences, perhaps?"

Richings seemed to ponder that a moment.

"I take it that Morgan therefore knows about it, too, which is unfortunate. I've had my suspicions for a while now, however. He and his supporters have evaded us for too long."

"If it makes you feel any better, I probably know more than he does. Some of my knowledge came to me coincidentally and, as such, was not essential to his objectives. He's not one for bothering with extraneous information."

"You are… deceptively clever, Mr Ackles," Richings said with a slow blink of his eyes.

"I am how I am because I have to be."

"Yes, I believe that to be true."

Jensen hated that look. The one where someone was looking at you, but not _at_ you. Like they were looking at something on the other side of you, and you yourself were merely in the way. But Jensen got the feeling that that wasn't all it was. He felt he could trust Richings to a point, yes, but the guy probably still had agendas upon agendas, and Jensen couldn't allow himself to be complacent, not while he was still playing the roles of both a target and a bug under a microscope. 

He took a calming breath and then focussed. 

… _There_. 

It was so subtle, so gentle, your average joe would have missed it.

"If you try to get inside my head you'll regret it." 

Richings smiled. "I'm sure."

The sensation of the Director's power against his person abated, but Jensen couldn't relax. He didn't like that whatever the deal was with this box. He couldn't send anything out but apparently it was A-OK with letting things _in_. The elevating anxiety levels were not good for his need to stay composed.

"You'll have to excuse my curiosity, but you're very much a mystery to me. And to my team, for that matter. We know little of your Talents and your mental protections are quite impressive. Level 10s remain a rarity, so we make a point of knowing as much as possible about them. I'm sure you understand."

"Well, if you actually want my cooperation, you and your team are going to need to back off. I intend to keep my secrets to myself, with the sole exception being that they become imperative to taking Morgan down."

"I don't like it, admittedly, but I don't believe we have time for stalemates right now either. If the attack in prison was anything to go by, I imagine Morgan must want you out of the picture sooner rather than later." 

Richings started pacing, walking from one side of Jensen's prison to the other. Jensen could practically see the cogs turning over in his mind. He hoped that whatever was coming wasn't too terrible. His tolerance of the whole situation was already wearing thin.

"My proposal is that we use you as bait."

"… _Say what_?"

"Let's not forget who the criminal is here, Jensen. You are at our mercy. Just think of it this way – you'll be out in the world again, free to come and go. With a few restrictions in place, of course."

"Of course," Jensen snorted, not in the least bit shocked. After all he was the expendable one, as had just been made clear. Their little dog on a leash, jumping through hoops, desperate for a treat. What those 'hoops' might be, however… Jensen braced himself for the reveal. 

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here like a free man, though I think you've figured that part out already. You'll need to be monitored closely and within our reach at all times, for when such time arises that Morgan or any of his lackeys make their presence known. My proposal is that you become a CI for the Bureau."

"Come again?"

"You seem to have built some rapport with young Jared, and I know his loyalties lie on the side of the law, so it makes sense to me. Our story will be that you have agreed to provide intel and other helpful insights into magically-inclined offenders and help catch them with the Investigation and Retrieval Team. It's not an implausible scenario."

Jensen worked his jaw but no sound seemed to want to come out. Richings' suggestion was not one he'd seen coming. But… perhaps it would work? Perhaps it would allow just the right amount of freedom Jensen needed to continue to survive. 

"What sort of restrictions are we talking about here?"

"Good, you're thinking about it." Richings gestured encouragingly. "We would need to keep some kind of tracker on you – a bracelet or a necklace, for instance. It would monitor your location and inhibit your magic usage. We will also create a feasible response time radius around HQ and you would need to stay within that radius at all times. "

"So you’re saying no magic at all? What if I need to protect myself?"

"That's where Agent Padalecki comes in. We would give him a matching item which would allow him to either grant or prohibit your usage. As such, you'll need to be as close to him as possible, as often as possible."

"That sounds like a pretty dubious issue of control right there."

"Jared is a very upstanding and responsible agent, I assure you. If it makes you feel better I'll make sure you have a way of contacting me directly."

Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He was torn between thinking the whole thing was a whole load of crap, and also the best possible plan considering his current shitty situation. Jared having control over him was a distinct worry, not necessarily because he had no faith in Jared – he seemed like a decent guy, as far as FBI agents went – but Jensen had let others take control of him in the past, and it had stolen years off his life, not to mention diminishing his trust in people. The thought of having to do it again sent a shiver up his spine, but the way the Director was spinning it, it was sounding more and more like his best (and only) option. 

"And what does Jared think about all this?"

"He had his reservations, much like yourself, but in the end he signed his name on the dotted line."

"You're a very persuasive guy. And I don't like it."

Richings spread his hands wide in delight. "I'll take that as a compliment."

 

+///+

 

After a restless and anxiety-ridden night's sleep in his little dog box, Jensen was all too glad to be free of it. Even if that meant being immediately escorted up to the Investigation and Retrieval Team's floor for the official handover. 

He could feel every eye in the place on him as he was led across the office by two guards carrying anti-magic weapons, and situated in an empty conference room overlooking the city. Not a moment later Jared was awkwardly shuffling his way in followed by the Director and another man Richings introduced as SAC Jim Beaver. Beaver seemed gruff and stern-faced, but he politely returned Jensen's nod in greeting, so that was something.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?"

Richings produced a thick plastic band, which Jensen took to be the 'bracelet' he'd agreed upon, and he brought out a similar one for Jared. He must have noticed the grimace on Jensen's face, because he was quick to placate.

"Don't worry. I'll glamour it up for you in a minute. Much of our magi-tech unfortunately hasn't made it to the microsizing department just yet."

One of the guards unlocked his handcuffs and Jensen immediately stuck out his right wrist, trying not to fold over at the sudden and momentary access to his magic reserves. He spotted Jared staring from out the corner of his eye but Jensen didn't recognise the expression that was being directed his way. Or maybe he just didn't want to. Because heaven forbid he be pitied by a Level 3 FBI Agent, albeit one that had caught Jensen's attention. 

The new band finally snapped closed, and Jensen couldn't hold back the groan of discomfort that he had been barely biting down on. Thankfully no one in the room decided to acknowledge it, and that was just fine by Jensen. Jared's turn came next, the band being fitted to his left wrist, and Richings wove a neat and perfunctory glamour for each of them – a watch for Jared and a tasteful leather cuff for Jensen. Now if only Jensen could change into some clothes that weren't a crappy tan jumpsuit, he'd be laughing. Sort of.

"Well. I think we're all done here. Jim?"

"Oh, no, don't look at me. I'll oversee whatever I need to oversee, but that's the extent of it. Let it be known that I don't agree with any of this."

"Yes," the Director said curtly, "So you've said. Repeatedly. Okay, he's all yours Jared."

Jared said nothing as he watched his two superiors leave the room, closing the door behind them. He fiddled awkwardly with his 'watch', twisting it around and around, then latched onto the length of his tie instead.

"Don't feel bad about what Beaver said, by the way. He's actually on your side."

Jensen scoffed. Running his fingers through his hair. "Excuse me if I find that hard to believe. I'm the fox in the hen house right now. He'd be right to not trust me."

"No, seriously. He accepts that the Director is the one making the decisions, but he was very vocal about the idea of you being used as bait. And then the wristband situation as well. It's a pretty controversial idea. I think they've only officially used it once or twice before."

"Well, gee. Look at us crazy pioneers, breaking new ground."

"I just mean that…" Jared cut himself off, his shoulders drooping as he sighed. "Never mind. I don't want you to be freaked out about this, is all. I figure you weren't exactly given much of a choice – Richings has that effect on people. And I'm gonna do my best to, like… help you do whatever you need to do."

Jensen raised his eyebrows and propped up his head with his hand.

"And what is that exactly? Are our lives gonna turn into some comedic buddy cop movie or what?"

"Look, all I'm thinking is that we can't just sit around and wait for this guy that's gunning for you to make a move – it'll drive us both completely nuts. So why don't we turn the charade into a reality and you can help me out on some cases? Ingratiate yourself a little. Make a little effort here and maybe some people make a little effort for you in return. Surely you can see the sense in that?"

Some of the fight seemed to return to Jared's demeanour and Jensen felt instantly better about it. He didn't need to be pandered to or felt sorry for. Not now, not ever. 

"What about your team? Won't they have an issue with working with a CI? Especially one they captured only a few weeks back."

"Let me put it this way – my team and I work well together, we have trust and mutual respect, but we are not friends. Some of them have a hard time dealing with the fact that I'm their superior when my Level is what it is."

"Apparently brain power doesn't count, huh?"

"Something like that."

Picking at a loose thread on his jumpsuit, Jensen wondered what he was supposed to say to that. It was obviously a sore point for Jared, but Jensen wasn't exactly the consoling type. He wanted to tell Jared to do something about it, but Jensen was one to talk. Here he was, getting himself caught up amongst the FBI in an effort to _run away_ from all his problems. Because yeah, that was a great response. Real healthy. Getting yourself tied down at the mercy of some Fed… His younger self would be horrified. 

But that was a little unfair. He knew that. Yes, Jared was the cop and he was the robber, but so far Jared hadn't shown him any ill will. In actual fact he'd been pretty decent about everything, considering how difficult Jensen had been. Jensen felt like there could be an understanding there, if they both made the effort.

"So let's show them a thing or two."

"What?"

Jared suddenly seemed to perk up out of his stupor.

"You say your colleagues basically don't give a shit, right? But you've got cases to close. So let's close them."

"…You're being serious?"

"Not that I want to be repeating anything Richings has to say, but he was right that I have intel and insight. Surely there's gotta be something I can help with. Like you said, I don't wanna be sitting around doing nothing."

"That's… that's great, actually. And yeah, there's definitely plenty of things you could help me with." Jared got to his feet and made to leave, but suddenly stopped. "Wait, not so fast. I forgot there's other stuff we have to take care of first."

Retrieving a couple of bags from the corner, Jared dumped them on the conference table in front of Jensen. In opening them Jensen found the clothes and shoes he'd been wearing at the time of his capture, now all mended and back to their original state – scorch mark free! – along with a phone he'd never seen before and some folded up papers. The papers revealed themselves to be a map of the city, an overlarge 'x' marking the building they were currently in and a thick red line revealing the perimeter of Jensen's approved radius. It wasn't as wide as he might have hoped for, but he conceded that when (not 'if') JD finally appeared, they'd want all the backup the MID could provide. Staying in the radius at least gave him half a chance.

Picking up the phone, Jensen turned it on and flicked through the basics, finding it completely empty but for several phone numbers. One of which was marked 'JR'. Apparently the Director had held true on that at least. He also had Jared's number and SAC Beaver's, along with a number labelled 'Critical'.

"That's what you dial when the shit hits the fan. It'll register with the Director, my team here at IRT, and anyone else who's nearby."

Jensen nodded. "Cool. I've got my own big red panic button."

"We've also got to find you somewhere to stay. There's a spare room with a fold-out at my apartment if you want it, or else we can find you a cheap hotel room on the FBI's dime."

"No offence to your spare room," Jensen hedged, "But having my own space would be preferable."

"It's fine. There's a place we put people up sometimes. Visiting agents and such. We won't monitor the inside of your room but we will have to monitor the hallways and the entry/exit points of the building."

"I figure."

"Why don't you get changed while I make some calls, then we'll go find you a toothbrush and another change of clothes."

Jensen wasn’t going to argue, that was for sure. Having his own shitty hotel room sounded like a dream at this point. Even if they were going to monitor the hallways, there were ways around that, and it hardly sounded airtight. Plus the simple joy of being back in a Henley and jeans nearly brought a tear to his eye.

"Say, have you thought about trying to find what's-his-face before he finds you?"

"Jared, let's just not even go there, okay? The longer I have no contact with him or his minions, the longer my life will be."

 

+///+

 

Honestly, Jared had been expecting more of a fight when he'd brought up the idea of turning their Agent/Informant roleplay into something more proactive. But Jensen had surprised him once again. He wondered if he should start getting used to that, because it seemed like it might become a frequent occurrence. 

Their venture for some clothes and basic necessities had been quick and efficient, Jared footing the bill on behalf of the FBI. He knew he'd be hearing about it endlessly from his team (only once they were out of earshot from Jensen, of course) and he could only imagine their condescension, not to mention that the Bureau was paying for it. If only they knew the real story maybe they would change their tune, but Jared was sworn to secrecy. It was for everyone's own good. He just had to hope that Morgan or one of his minions wouldn't come at them as a team, because that would essentially force him to let the cat out of the bag, right? Except Jensen would have to be the one doing the talking, what with Jared having that little Locked Lips enchantment thing going on.

In the office the next day things were tense, as Jared had predicted they would be. Jensen was awkward about being stared at the whole time, and Jared was awkward about Jensen being awkward, and the team was awkward about Jared being more awkward than usual… and seriously, they all needed to chill out for a bit. Jensen thankfully got to looking at a couple of the cases Jared had put aside for them to work on, and immediately pointed out a couple of details that Jared would never have thought to consider. He made note of them, then gave Jensen more files to look at, and went about making enquiries as to what they were and were not able to do – some of the cases were going to require interviews and re-inspections of the crime scenes, and Jared needed to know what Jensen had been authorised to take part in.

They saw the day out from inside the office, Jensen having made considerable headway with his additional observations, and Jared couldn't help but feel a little bit proud. Just a little, though. It was important to keep a level head about things. Jared may have known _some_ of what was going on, but there were still plenty of things that remained a mystery so far as Jensen was concerned. He could yet turn out to be every inch the sly fox and dangerous criminal people assumed him to be, and Jared had to be prepared for that possibility. But on the other hand, Jensen had been perfectly reasonable about everything that had happened so far, and there was no excuse for Jared (or anyone else, for that matter) to be a dick when it was uncalled for.

Five o'clock hit and the majority of the team began saying their goodbyes for the day. Jared told Jensen to go back to the hotel – he was apparently keen to walk the three blocks distance on his own – while Jared finished things up. He didn't necessarily set out to be deceptive, but who was he kidding? He was an SSA in the FBI. Deception was part of the job description. So he brought up the tracking data on his computer screen and watched the live-update map, following the little dot-pings until Jensen had reached his destination. 

And there. That was all there was to see, right? He'd satisfied his curiosity. He could go home now. 

Except that Jared couldn't quite make himself get up from his chair.

The little dot pulsed over and over from the same location, showing that Jensen was settled in his hotel room, unmoving. Jared had access to the camera feeds in the hallway and the main entry points of the hotel and he could look them up at any given time. Yes, he should check them now and again – it was the responsible thing to do – but knowing his own tendencies and paranoias, he was conscious of not letting himself become obsessive about it. 

Still, something told him that it wouldn't be as much of a problem as usual. Because while it was true Jensen was a seasoned thief, and Jared had to expect that at some point or other he was probably going to get up to something he shouldn't be, some part of Jared… just didn't really care. Jensen still hadn't told the full story of his relationship with Morgan or why he was on the run, but all of Jared's experience was telling him that Jensen was some kind of victim in the grand scheme of things. He couldn't say what it was in particular that made him think that, just that the notion was there and he couldn't brush it off. Because of that, he wanted to risk granting Jensen a little leeway where he could. He just had to hope Jensen wouldn't let him down.

One thing that _did_ genuinely have him a tad suspicious on the other hand, was that Jensen had not yet asked about using his magic. Jensen was effectively cut off from it unless Jared fed a small thread of magic through his bracelet to allow otherwise, but Jensen hadn't made a peep about it. It was… slightly disconcerting. Being a Level 10, Jared would have expected him to be visibly suffering under the lack of access to his reserves, but it seemed that was not the case. And he would definitely have known it if Jensen had used any amount of power – the bracelet (or rather, his 'watch') was meant to buzz against his skin and alert him if that happened. Not to mention that Jared would have been able to smell it afterward. But nope. There was nothing. Not a blip.

More than once he had to contemplate whether he was being tricked somehow. But so far there was no proof to be had. So Jared just had to accept that Jensen was just a singular cat who was (shockingly) following the rules. And goddamn, it was getting under his skin. It would have made things infinitely easier if Jensen were to just slip up already, reveal his deceitful self and get it out of the way. Maybe then Jared would have justifiable reason for further interrogation. Maybe then he'd get some answers to satisfy his all the questions he had. And Jared just had _so many_ questions – a list that seemed to grow by the day.

Like, where had Jensen been staying before they captured him?

Where were his belongings?

Did he even have any belongings?

Or money? (Besides the meagre FBI allowance they were giving him?)

And what was he eating?

Was he eating properly or just buying whatever junk was in the nearest vending machine? He'd shared a chicken and salad sub with Jared that day, but that was the only time he'd seen Jensen eat anything.

If ever anyone needed proof that Jared was a closet worrywart…

He pulled at his hair and stood up and away from the desk in a hurried burst, forcing himself to look away from the map still on his computer screen. With a quick wave of his hand Jared summoned his keys, something he didn't normally do, and not a moment later he was striding out of his office, getting the hell out of there. 

~

The next day continued much like the first, as did the next, and then finally Jared received approval for Jensen to be taken out on investigative assignments. That was, so long as he remained visible to Jared at all times. And that was fine by Jared. He was just glad to be able to get out of the office for a change. 

Jensen arrived to the office shortly after he did, coffee cups in tow. He looked as blank-faced and sharp-eyed as he always did (and still as sickeningly attractive as ever) but there was still that feeling that lingered. The feeling that there was something there, just under the surface, that wasn't quite right. Something was up with Jensen and he was making a pretty good attempt at hiding it, while Jared kept trying and failing to think of a way to pry it out of him without being obvious.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"You good? Sleeping fine in that crummy hotel?"

"Besides the traffic noise and someone across the hall blasting their TV all night, yeah sure."

Well, he tried, right?

"So, that break and enter case, the one with the… what was it… an old clock or something? I thought we might go take another look at the house. Talk to the owner."

"I'm allowed to leave during work hours now?"

"Got the approval this morning. It's a probationary thing, though. We'll do a couple of formal visits, see how we go, then we be can a bit more relaxed about it. But if you mess up it's all over – just warning you."

They travelled to the apartment, which was just barely within the confines of Jensen's perimeter, and knocked at the door. The owner was a woman in her 70s, well dressed, and a low level magic user – a Level 2 by Jared's estimation. He hadn't bothered to look up her profile to find out, but he couldn't be far off the mark judging by the weak trails of mint-smelling residue he could scent floating about the house.

"Mrs Tapping, I spoke with you on the phone. I'm Agent Padalecki. This is my, uh, consultant, Mr Ackles."

"Oh, yes. Come in, come in. Can I get you some tea?"

"Ah, no thanks, ma'am. We're fine."

Her home appeared fairly modest (and honestly, a bit dull) until they followed her into a room filled with artefacts and historical knick-knacks and display cabinets full of antiques like Jared had never seen before. The case had belonged to one of his subordinates so it was his first time seeing it outside of the photos in the case file and it was dizzying, to the point where Jared wondered how the woman had even been able to recognise what specific items had been taken. He could see Jensen out the corner of his eye, inspecting several things close up, his murmurs of surprise making Jared curious as to how Mrs Tapping had accumulated such a collection. Because if Jensen knew what some of these things were, that meant they had to have value, right? During his career as a thief (at least as far as Jared was aware of it) he'd only ever taken very rare and valuable items. 

"So, Mrs Tapping, could you just run the details by me again, in your own words?"

"Well, it was a Thursday. I'd just finished at my Bridge club when I came home and noticed some things looked out of place. I come in here at least a few times a day, just to look. The collection belonged to my late husband – he was a collector of antiques, and a meticulous one at that. I checked his log books and was able to pick out what things had gone missing. I notified the police and then they called on your team when magical residue was detected."

Jared let his power do the work, and was still able to detect a scent lingering in the room. Something distinctly coffee-like. Arabica beans, maybe?

"And the items were placed here and here, where these markers are?"

"That's right. The porcelain horse was there, and the medallions were in that spot."

"Right, well. My consultant here," Jared gestured back over to Jensen, whose attention was still occupied by some trinket or other, "He had an idea after seeing the photos that were taken by forensics. Um, Jensen?"

Suddenly realising he was being called on, Jensen pull himself up straight and worked his way over to the far wall. He pointed up to an old clock hanging there, its hands pointing to what was completely the wrong time.

"This clock. I've seen something like it before."

"Oh, that old thing," Mrs Tapping seemed to laugh it off, "I don't know where my husband managed to pick that up, but no matter how many times I tried to wind it up it just never seemed to keep working."

"That's probably because you have to wind it with magic. The wood inlay, it has been treated so that it holds a magical charge. And it's not always meant to tell the time, either."

Mrs Tapping appeared concerned.

"Uh, Jared, are you able to spell a reveal, or…?"

"Oh. I'm not… not so great with that stuff. Why don't I…?" Jared pointed to his watch and waited for Jensen to nod in reply. Then, by drawing a hasty arrow-shaped symbol with his finger, he fed a small _give_ order through the top of the watch face, taking particular notice of the shudder that ran through Jensen's body in response. There was a moment of nothingness, but then Jared could feel the pull of power through the contraption on his wrist, could feel the thin stream of it passing through his own body before traveling onward to Jensen. Jared hadn't really known what he was in for until that moment, and perhaps he still didn't, not exactly. Of course he'd been informed that he would be in full control of what Jensen could and couldn't access magic-wise, but the notion of being a direct conduit to Jensen's power itself hadn't really factored into his thoughts in a practical sense. 

It was… weird, to say the least. And kind of a rush.

"Right. So… _Reveal_."

Immediately the hands on the clock began to turn, spinning around the dial until they pointed to the correct time. And then… nothing. Jensen reached up to scratch the back of his head, clearly confused. 

"Okay, that wasn't quite what I was expecting. Let's try… _Conceal_."

The rush came over Jared for a second time, power filtering through him before moving on to its rightful owner. It was sort of… tingly. A brief sparkling sensation that washed through his limbs and then disappeared once Jensen had gathered the magic he needed and completed the spell. Jared looked up and once again the hands on the clock moved, this time not stopping until they both reached the twelve. Then came a loud whirring sound and suddenly light was spilling out from the centre of the clock, covering the full extent of the room. The light moved and shimmered, before finally fading… leaving the items in the room looking just slightly different than they had a moment ago. Several things had moved, and the items that were missing looked as though they were back in place, like they'd been there the whole time.

"Oh my goodness," Mrs Tapping gasped, her hands rising to her face.

"It's a projection," Jensen explained, his voice steady and to the point, "The clock acts as a timer. They couldn't prove that anyone had been in or out during the time you were out, right? Well, it's likely that's because it didn't happen at that time. Because of the timer, it could have happened whole days before you were aware of it."

Picking his jaw up off the floor, Jared's intuition immediately kicked in.

"Mrs Tapping, did you have any repair men or deliveries made in the days before you filed the report?"

"I had someone in fixing the taps in the bathroom – do you think that could have been when it happened?"

"Entirely possible. Have you got the receipt or maybe a business card?"

"Yes, yes, somewhere…"

Jared took a copy of the receipt and called it in to his team, noting the name of the guy who had apparently 'fixed the taps' that day. Within an hour he had a call back from Alona, informing him that the man had been apprehended and had confessed on the spot, and a search was being conducted of his house. If they found the items they would be returned shortly – Mrs Tapping was ecstatic to hear the news. 

Politely, and attempting to not sound too eager, Jared got to his feet from where they'd finally accepted the offer of tea and began the process of extraction. (Or was 'escape' the more appropriate word?) Mrs Tapping insisted on shaking their hands and giving them each a thorough pat on the cheek, but they eventually found themselves back outside and hopping into Jared's car. HQ was waiting and there were reports to write up – a delightful and much-loved part of the process that Jensen would also get to take part in.

"Case closed on the first try. That's pretty impressive."

"I hope I haven't set too much of a precedent," Jensen said, staring out the passenger side window of the car, "If I get the next one wrong it'll look pretty bad, y'know?"

"I get what you're saying, but honestly, I've learned that you just need to take 'em wherever you can get 'em."

"I guess…"

Jensen fidgeted in his seat, and Jared got the distinct feeling that something was bothering the other man.

"Something wrong? Other than your fear of failure?"

With his eyes turned away, Jared had no gauge for Jensen's emotional state.

"Yeah, uh, could you maybe… turn the magic off now? Just having it right there is… more than a little bit tempting."

"Oh, shit. Sorry."

Grabbing onto his wrist, Jared scribbled a _take_ symbol onto the watch face with his fingertips, noting that Jensen simultaneously relaxed in his seat.

"I'm really sorry, man. I promise that wasn't a test or anything, I just totally forgot."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"I am worried, though. I'll try to be more aware next time. I mean, I'm not used to it yet, but then I don't want to be used to it either. You know what I mean?"

"I get it, Jared. It's cool."

The rest of the drive back to HQ was done it silence, but as Jared pulled up, putting the car into park, Jared just couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"You can tell me to fuck off if you want, but I have to ask… What's it like? To have power like yours? To wield it?"

Jensen took his time responding.

"That's a really complex question. One I'm not sure I know how to answer. It's a little bit different for everyone, you know?"

"I know, I know. I'm just… curious. It's not like I know many High Levelers, and certainly not any I can talk to like this. I just want to try to understand, I guess."

"Fair enough." Jensen looked solemn, his eyes focussed on where his hands were clasped together in his lap. "It's kinda like breathing, is the best way I can describe it. It's just completely natural. Always there, always flowing beneath my skin, like blood flowing through the veins. A lot of the time I don't even have to think about it, and whatever I need my power to do, it just does it. Occasionally I still need to weave spell patterns or use symbols or gestures, but only for the more complex stuff. The rest of the time it's sort of just… instinctual. "

"That's hard to imagine. For someone like me, I mean."

"It's been told to me that once you get to somewhere around Level 8 or 9, the magic's more deeply ingrained in your biology," Jensen relayed the words with slightly more conviction, his body language growing a little more animated, "Like, it's in every single part of you, every cell, every molecule, not just swimming around in a contained ball inside of you somewhere. You have to imagine, like, drawing the magic out from in your centre somewhere, right?"

"Right. That's how my parents always explained it – it's locked away in a box in my stomach and I have to coax it out with the right words or symbols or whatever."

"For me it's the opposite. It's sort of gushing out of me all the time, the box in my stomach is overflowing, so instead of drawing it out, I have to focus more on keeping it in, and controlling how and when I let it out of me."

Jared paused, mulling it all over. "That's… actually a really good explanation. You ever thought of being a teacher?"

Jensen couldn't keep the half-smile from curling his lips, but a second later it was gone again.

"Okay, _now_ I'm telling you to fuck off."

 

+///+

 

That night Jensen made his first move.

His paranoia was getting to be a real distraction, so he figured he had to at least try to appease his mind lest it trip him up in an inopportune moment. Jared was a perceptive guy, and Jensen couldn't pretend that any odd behaviour would go unnoticed. The whole of Jared's team (and hell, the whole MID, let's be honest) had their eyes on him, just waiting for Jensen to give them an excuse. So he knew he had to take every step possible to keep himself looking clean and cooperative. 

The first step being to make a very important phone call.

Jensen had already sussed out the security cameras, both the hotel's own and the FBI installed ones – a quick peek at Jared's computer earlier in the day had solved the latter in a pinch – so he knew where the blind spots were and which side of the hotel was the most favourable for a quick trip out. He couldn't go too far, of course, because he needed his tracking data to keep him in relatively the same location as the hotel, but thankfully there was a payphone only two doors down. 

Jumping across the balconies was easy as pie, then he was able to swing around onto the fire escape once he'd reached the balcony of the farthest room along, and slide his way down to the ground. Batman eat your heart out.

He kept his head down, hood up, as he dropped a few coins into the payphone and dialled the familiar number. Only three rings sounded before there was a voice coming though from the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Robbie?"

"…Oh my god, _Jen_? Is that you? Are you—"

"Yeah, it's me. Keep your voice down. I'm hoping to hell you're not busy right now 'cause I've got a bit of a big ask to throw at you."

 

+///+

 

For the next couple of days Jensen kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He did his best to push down his anxiety, but he kept expecting Jared's next words to turn interrogative, or for the tracking software to alert someone to his movements in the middle of the night. But the accusations never came. And the resulting nothingness almost made it worse.

It didn't help either that Jared's offensive team were gearing up for some sort of bust. Every one of them was radiating storm clouds of tension, keeping the whole damn office on their toes, most especially when it came to Alona, who was taking point while Jared took care of his 'thief on a leash'. If circumstances had been different, Jensen might have been inclined to offer them a hand, but it didn't take a genius to surmise how unwelcome an idea that would have been in the current climate. 

Jensen looked on in silence as the team suited up, strapping on their tactical gear, a couple of them even sporting anti-magic weapons. He knew next to nothing about the case or the perps they were going after, but clearly they were expecting a pretty hefty fight. As they cleared the office Jensen turned back to the case file he was reading, not that it was going to improve his mood any. In fact it was quite the opposite – he was practically livid, though he didn't dare show it. 

According to the file there was a serial hypnotiser on the loose. Some fuckwit out there was spelling people into doing their bidding, namely getting them to steal property or information, or to simply hand over their own valuables. And in the aftermath, some of the unfortunate victims had failed to completely recover.

The thought made Jensen want to throw things. Or maybe punch someone. Whichever opportunity presented itself first. 

Jensen had done his fair share of horrible, terrible, very bad things, but one thing he had never done was fuck with some stranger's mind. The brain was a fragile thing, and going anywhere near it with any kind of magic required an exceptionally skilled hand. Even Interrogation, perhaps the most 'basic' and oft used of mind tampering, demanded excessive amounts of training to get right, lest you turn your subject (or patient or victim) into a living zombie. And Jensen had been there, to zombieville. He'd been on the receiving end of spells that had wrapped his mind up so tight he wondered how he'd ever managed to escape, mental minefields so dangerous it was a wonder he'd made it out unscathed. Or, hell, maybe he hadn't… There was no way to know for sure, not without some very invasive magic getting involved, and over his own dead body would he ever let anybody get that close again. In the intervening years he'd built a fucking mental fortress around himself – he was taking no chances.

"Jensen? You good?"

His head whipped around toward the sound of Jared's voice, finding him hovering in the doorway to his own office, a coffee mug in each hand. In letting his anger and resentment run wild, he'd completely lost track of time.

"Uh. Yeah. Fine."

"Somehow I don't believe you." Jared rounded his desk and took a seat, sliding one of the mugs across the table into Jensen's reach. "If I had to guess, something in that case has got you riled. You've been staring at it for a while now, I've noticed."

Jensen bit his lip, wondering if it was worth trying to deflect. But perhaps confessing something, even if it was the wrong something, would lift a little of the anxiety off his shoulders. "It's just… I take particular issue with this kind of thing."

"And by that you mean… mind magic?"

"Yeah. Anything remotely invasive, anything that alters the mental state, that erases or creates… Even if I understand its purpose."

Propping his chin up with his hand, Jared seemed to ponder over his words at length. He wondered what the agent must think of him putting something like that out into the open. It was an almost preposterous admission, considering his 'career' and the people he'd associated himself with over the years. So was he lying, and Jared was just playing along? Did Jared think he was trying to work an angle? Or, god forbid, did he actually believe what Jensen was saying? It wasn't like Jensen had any way of proving his innocence of certain things, but then again, Jared had shown him a surprising amount of trust so far in their odd little partnership.

"You're referring to Interrogation?" Jared finally said in response.

"In part."

"So you're saying you don't think we should do it, even if it might uncover a terrible crime or save someone's life?"

"I think it should be outlawed, set high up on a shelf right next to torture. Breaking into a person's mind – even a guilty one – is a type of invasion I can't forgive. There are other ways to get what you want. Ones that don't run the risk of turning someone into a vegetable or a basketcase, depending on which way you slip up."

"You sound like you've had some experience with this stuff."

Jensen shrugged, evasive once more. "Of sorts."

"Can you tell me that you've honestly never interrogated someone?"

"Not once. Or, not knowingly. The most I've ever done is stun someone – it's a little light-based trick that causes some temporary blurred vision and confusion. Nothing significant."

"That's very moral of you."

"I might've been involved with the wrong crowd, but I'm not a thug. I hope you see that."

Jared sighed. "I do. Seriously. It's one of the reasons why I didn't allow any anti-magic weaponry during your take-down, even though the team thought I'd lost it. I had a theory I wanted to test."

"Guess that means I passed."

"I guess—"

The sound of Jared's voice was cut off by the sudden cacophony of the team's return. The drumming of heavy boot-falls scuffing along the carpet, and the thump of armour and equipment hitting desks and the floor filled up the entire office. No one was talking, but one look at their body language told Jensen everything they needed to know – things hadn't gone well. Gil and Osric each had a man beside them trussed up in dampening chains, clearly two of the men they'd set out to apprehend. Though if Jensen had heard correctly, there should have been three.

They both got to their feet, Jared muttering under his breath, and they moved into the main office space. Beaver was standing across the way, arms crossed over his chest, but Jared was the one to step forward and take charge. 

"Agent Tal, report."

Alona looked as though she'd just bitten into a sour lemon, and Jensen could see the fatigue wearing on her. She needed some serious recharging. But her day was not over yet.

"All three were present at the location as we predicted but… Amell escaped, sir. I don't know how. It was like he just disappeared into thin air."

 _Yeah right_ , Jensen thought to himself, rolling his eyes. He could come up with at _least_ six ways of 'disappearing into thin air' before he even put his mind to it. It was practically child's play. That is, if you knew what you were doing.

"You got something to say, thief?"

Alona's tone was like acid and not worth the risk, so Jensen simply held his hands up in surrender, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her.

"That's enough, agent," Jared chimed in, "Go put in a request to get a couple of Locators down here and we'll see what we come up with, okay? SAC Beaver, can you put out a street-level alert? That'd be great, thank you. Everyone get back to work, please."

Everyone who had gathered around then began to disperse, while Jared audibly sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose – it seemed he had a headache coming on.

"Uh, Jared?"

"Can it wait?"

"Well, sure, but… you know I could probably find that guy, right?"

Watching Jared come to the so-terribly-obvious realisation nearly had Jensen threatening to keel over laughing, but he somehow managed to hold it in, lest he get yet another sour look pointed in his direction.

"Holy shit. You can? I mean, of course you can. Jesus, I'm an idiot. You'd think I was new at this…"

Jensen made a conscious choice not to take the bait and poke fun at the poor guy. "It'll take a fair bit of power, though," he said instead, "Considerably more than with the clock the other day, especially if this guy has covered some distance." It would also take some single-minded focus and control, lest he overload himself and damage the bracer still hiding in plain sight on his left wrist. Just thinking about it made his arm throb like a blackened bruise.

"Right, right. So what do you need to make it happen?"

"The most effective thing to use is some sort of essence – either the guy's blood or his magic." 

"Will residue work?"

"If it's fresh and if there's enough of it."

Nodding, Jared walked off and set about rounding up the herd again, shepherding them all into one of the conference rooms. The tactical team all looked a little worse for wear and (unsurprisingly) not one of them looked particularly happy to be sharing a space with Jensen again – it wouldn't shock him to know that they thought him the root cause of all their latest problems, but Jensen got that he was the easy target in the current scenario. The only person besides Jared who didn't look about one wrong move away from killing him was SAC Beaver, who slipped inside just before Jared closed the door.

"Before anyone says anything," Jared began, his words terse and practically daring someone to interrupt, "I want you to consider what your top priority is right now. It _should_ be catching Amell. If it isn’t then I think you've got some serious contemplating to do. Now, it's going to take at least twenty minutes for a Locator to arrive, so I figure we've got nothing to lose in giving Jensen a shot at this. But first, I need to know if anyone took a direct hit of Amell's magic."

A second passed… then Osric raised his hand. He'd removed most of his protective gear, but the shirt he wore still showed the evidence of a pretty significant blow to the shoulder. Jared beckoned him forward and Osric did as asked, although he looked more than a little suspicious as Jensen approached him from the side. After exchanging a look, Jared tapped at his watch face and Jensen felt the first vestiges of power return to his body. He would need more than such a feeble trickle once he got down to business, but it would be adequate for the first step.

Osric looked about ready to make a run for it as Jensen stepped into his personal space, and Jensen had to give him credit for holding his ground.

"This won't hurt but it'll feel pretty weird. Just warning you."

Placing his hands over Osric's shoulder, Jensen sought out the area of impact and _pulled_. His magic didn't quite feel the same as it usually did, didn’t quite flow as smoothly as it should, which Jensen could only chalk up to his 'leash'. He was pretty sure he'd worked out how the mechanism of the wristbands worked, by funnelling the power out of him, then through Jared, before returning it to his own body again. A little magical detour. The fact that the power he was drawing upon was (for all intents and purposes) now coming from an outside source rather than an inside one, was throwing his faculties off balance. The 'reveal' and 'conceal' he'd used back at the old lady's house had been so insignificant he hadn't really noticed it before, but now he was going to have to focus all that much harder to make sure he was hitting the right marks.

Keeping his arms steady, Jensen began to draw back from Osric's body, bringing the magic residue with him. It was an odd little spell, relatively unknown, and not one that he'd used more than once or twice before, but he remembered it as well as he remembered any invocation he witnessed – which was pretty much always and completely. Ever since overcoming a bout of onset sickness as a kid, he'd just had a knack for remembering symbols and spell weaves and incantations. In this case he'd drawn the appropriate symbol using his mind rather than his hands, and its command had instantly frozen all the foreign residue in that section of the agent's body. The particles of residue started compacting on themselves straight away, like metal towards a charged magnet, as Jensen steadily forced them out into the open. By the time he was done Jensen was left with a small, silvery ball of light hovering between his palms.

Osric blinked at the light, looking a little stunned. "That's…?"

"Amell's magic. You took a hit, meaning there would be particles of whatever spell he used stuck in your body. It generally takes about a day for your own body to kill off any the hostile magic lingering in or around it. If we'd waited too much longer this wouldn't have worked."

"Huh. The more you know."

"So you can find him then?" Alona's voice cut through the quiet of the rest of the room, her hands planted squarely on her hips. Jensen had half a mind to tell her he'd located people on the opposite side of the world before, but once more he decided to make the smarter choice and bite his tongue. Of course, he'd only ever succeeded in doing such a thing when he was at full power, and of late he was a considerable downward-slide below that point.

"As long as he's still in the country, then yes." He kept the many variables behind such a statement to himself. "Um, Jared? I might need a little…?"

"Oh, right."

Jared scribbled onto his watch face again, and Jensen could feel the increased capacity at his fingertips. He flexed a little, enjoying the (albeit temporary) ability to straighten out his powered-up limbs for a moment and give them a good shake, but he didn't have the time for dawdling. 

By then the majority of the room's occupants had taken a seat and Jensen joined them at the conference table, Jared following suit. Holding the silvery light level with his chest, Jensen closed his eyes, settled in, and began to focus. _Really_ focus. Like his life depended on it. 

"A little more, please." 

"Got it," Jared answered from his right, upping his allowance once more.

This time, instead of allowing himself to properly feel out the increased power, Jensen immediately directed it into the spell he was building. Locating a living being could be a tricky and imprecise process, but there were numerous ways of going about it. The method he'd decided on was a compromise of stealth and low power – or more precisely, a low-level but steady and constant steam of power. He probably could have found this Amell guy more quickly with a series of concentric blasts spreading outward through the city, but not only would it require an outrageous amount of power, it would likely also alert their target that he'd been found. Because if he had any smarts whatsoever, Amell would be waiting for them to find him, would be alert to the tiniest tip-off from an outside source, and he would run. Again. 

Jensen would go about things more subtly, however. Activating his spell, he let a part of his consciousness detach from his body and plunge down level to the surface of the earth, where it would be easier to pick up the vibrations he sought. With that part of himself he sent the core of the little light ball he'd collected from Osric. Stripped of its out layer, the light (a drop of Amell's raw power) would become unstable and would actively seek its original source – that being Amell himself. He had to keep a sturdy grip on the core lest it escape and outrun him, but while it remained in his hold it would propel him forward through the astral plane, riding the waves of vibrating magic that littered the city until it found precisely the wave it was looking for – the one left in the wake of Amell's magic. 

Everyone left their own waves behind as they went about their daily business, even those with little to no capacity for magic. It was just one of those earthly things that happened. But actually being able to read those waves, follow them, feel them, and knowing of their very existence to begin with, was a secret revealed only to very few. Jensen himself didn't know how or why he could tap into them, but he suspected it was something to do with the always adaptive and receptive nature of his power. The only other person he knew with the same ability was Rob, though Rob chose to utilise his understanding of astral waves in a wholly different way than Jensen did. A more constructive way, if he were being honest. JD had known about the waves too (if only because Jensen had told him) but he'd never been able to see or feel them, and Jensen could not have been more grateful for that in hindsight. Or else he'd probably be dead by now. Well and truly dead.

Then there was Jared. An anomaly if ever there was one. Because Jared's power, weak though it was, was intrinsically linked with these waves that floated through the astral world, despite that he seemed to have absolutely no knowledge of them whatsoever. He couldn't seem to see them or feel them, but he could _smell_ them. It fascinated Jensen to no end. Maybe one day, if they ever moved beyond the agent/informant arrangement they were in, if they ever grew to be truly honest with one another, then maybe Jensen would tell him what he knew about magic. Things that he knew instinctively, things that he'd been taught along the way, and things that the upper echelons of the Magic Division could only wish they knew.

Darting through the earth's abstract self, slipping through it like a fish through the ocean, Jensen was nearly tripped up when he caught the first tug of Amell's wave, the power core nearly bouncing out of his grasp as it recognised its source. He held onto the core firmly, thinking idly that the FBI would probably love to know how to trap a piece of someone else's power, and he let it lead him along the right path. If he glanced aside, he could see the blur of the city passing by, completely unaware of his presence, but he took little notice of where he was until he could sense that he was getting close. Jensen slowed right up once he felt that he was within a hundred feet of Amell's location, and navigated the final stretch as if he were physically there, covering the distance on foot.

Something prickled at the back of his neck, bringing him up short, but when nothing further happened Jensen carried on descending the flight of stairs he was on. For a moment it had felt as though there was a second presence nearby, though the feeling didn't linger. Jensen decided to keep pressing on with his task, hoping that it had just been an echo from his physical body – maybe Jared had touched his shoulder or had spoken into his ear. He would have to ask once he went back.

Reaching the bottom of the third flight of stairs, Jensen followed the pull of the core as it tugged him down a long corridor and into a room littered with junk. But junk was not all that occupied the space… Finally having Amell in his sights, Jensen kept his distance, and committed the layout to memory. Finding him there, this violent criminal… it said a lot about what kind of guy he was. Namely a coward, hiding in a dark corner. Jensen didn't even need to know the details of what crimes he'd committed, his actions said enough.

The core began acting up, trying to force its way out of his hold, which meant Jensen had to leave before it became too difficult to handle. He let his consciousness snap back into his physical body like a rubber band, core in tow, and let everything settle back down into its normal rhythm. Blinking his eyelids open was an arduous process, the sudden light of the room making him wince, his body taking its time to adjust. And then there were a dozen pairs of eyes in his face. Waiting, waiting.

"I know where he is. He's stationary."

A collective sigh of relief moved around the room. Along with some shock. There was definitely some shock there, too.

"Do you need me to, like, knock him out or something? I could freeze him solid if you wanted?"

"Not even," Alona said with a huff, slamming a map of the city down on the conference table, "Just point to the place and we'll go do our own damn jobs."

He did as he was told, pointing to the correct spot on the map. "There's a storage room in the basement, about three floors below ground. Where they keep the cleaning supplies."

Alona looked at him strangely before pulling the map away and striding out of the room, a woman on a mission. Slowly but surely the rest of the room's occupants all filed out after her, leaving only Jensen, Jared, and SAC Beaver behind.

"That was impressive. Locating that far underground ain't easy," Beaver scratched his beard as he spoke, his gaze never breaking from Jensen, "You left your body, too, if I'm not mistaken. That takes considerable skill. And practice."

Jensen shrugged, evasive. "Just a little something I picked up a while back." A 'little something' that used a lot of mental and physical energy, though thankfully not all that much actual magical energy. Unlike most magic, spells that involved separating the mind and body were as much about the mental control as they were the power behind them. Once upon a time Jensen's mind had been only about as strong as the next guy's, and he'd paid for that fact dearly. In the past few years he'd remedied that particular shortcoming, had developed a little more finesse and a lot more control. It was a point of pride, but not one he was inclined to share.

"I'm sure," Beaver replied, rolling his eyes. "Jared, what do you-… Jared?"

Turning to his side, Jensen found Jared still sitting beside him but with his head in his hands, hair hanging down and obscuring his face. He finally pulled his gaze back upward after some prodding, but his face was pale and he looked about ready to keel over. He looked drained. And a moment later the logic behind it suddenly clicked into place.

"Shit. Wait there," Jensen stood in a rush, hurrying towards the door, "Lemme go get that sugar box o' yours."

~

"Son, are you okay?"

Jared groaned as he tried to process the words. His head ached like someone had been throwing rocks at him. It really fucking hurt.

"Fuuuuuck."

"Jensen's gone to get your candy. I'm thinkin' your head hurts something fierce what with you being all burnt out."

The hand on his shoulder was a small comfort, and a small shudder ran through him when Beaver cast a mild healing spell. It eased the pain just enough that he could focus a little more on the conversation at hand, and cleared his senses enough that he could pick up the scent in the air more clearly – it reeked of Jensen's magic.

"You're saying that Jensen using his power burns me out?"

"His power has to run through you first, doesn't it? And I hate to remind you but your Levels are significantly different. It don't take a rocket scientist to figure it out."

"Great. Just what I need… He found Amell though, right?"

"Considerably quicker than most Locators would've been able to. And he used a method I'm not sure I've ever seen before, which is sayin' something. If I'm being honest, the kid scares me a little."

"I get the feeling you wouldn't be the first to say that about him."

"Yeah, me neither."

Jared held his wrist up, glancing at the 'watch' strapped around its middle, and he and Beaver shared a look.

"Aren't you going to tell me I should revoke his power now?"

Shaking his head, Beaver held his hands up, signifying his not wanting to get involved.

"I'm not tellin' you anything, son. You're the one in charge here, not me."

"Not even going to slip me a little nugget of wisdom? I mean, I'd be shocked and disappointed if you didn't."

Beaver stroked at his beard. "A nugget of wisdom, huh? Well… I'll only say this 'cause I think you might feel the same, but… despite his being a felon, I don't think he's the bad guy here. I feel like he's a victim. I've looked into that WITSEC situation as much as I can without ruffling any feathers, and I think it may be something to do with his magic that caused his life to be up-ended. I dunno what but… seems like it's a burden somehow."

Jared nodded, seeing the sense in it all and agreeing. Beaver was a keen observer and secretly a softy behind that gruff exterior, and Jared was grateful that the SAC had taken a shine to him for whatever reason. Jared knew for a fact that he didn't talk this way to any of the other members of the IRT. 

"Even though I agree with you, we still don't know what his Talent is," Jared mused, propping his head up with his hand, "There's actually a lot we still don't know about him. It makes the agent in me suspicious."

"And yet something in you trusts him."

"I guess…"

"Just go with your gut, son. It hasn't steered you wrong so far. Just keep doing whatever you're doing and I reckon he'll talk to you eventually. Maybe you'll even be able to help him some."

It was just as Beaver was getting up to leave that Jensen arrived back with his candy stash. And even as he chewed on a handful of gummi bears with a grateful smile, Jared reluctantly drew the 'take' symbol over his watch face, cancelling out Jensen's power.

 

+///+

 

Clutching at the receiver, Jensen muttered to himself as the call rang out. 

Apart from the team bringing Amell in, the rest of the day had passed uneventfully, though that hadn't stopped Jensen's anxieties from creeping up on him. He was well aware he was going to have to recharge soon. He wasn't drained quite yet, he probably had enough juice left for one (maybe two) more substantial spells, but that would be it. If it got to that point… Well, he wasn't sure what he would do. The jig would be up, at the very least. His lie about his Source would probably be exposed. And one dropped ball as far as trust was concerned would only undo all the effort he'd put in so far. It wasn't that he wanted to lie or anything, it wasn't about trying to get away with it, it was simply for his own protection. At least for the moment, that had to take precedence.

He nearly jumped when the call suddenly picked up, a familiar voice filtering down the line.

"Kane's Specialty Dry Cleaners, this is Kane."

Jensen maintained that a dry cleaners was probably the most ludicrous (or more like _obvious_ ) front for an illegal operation ever, but somehow Chris continued to make it work. Chris was a smart guy, though. Maybe he shouldn't have been so shocked.

"Chris? It's—"

"Jen, holy shit. What's—wait, lemme get in the back here…" Jensen heard some shuffling around and then the sound of a door closing. "Jensen. Oh my fucking balls, what the hell is going on? Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?"

"Just chill with the questions a minute, would'ya? I can't talk long… But yeah, I'm okay for the most part. JD got close, man. Real close. I had to orchestrate my own takedown by the FBI, but now I'm under their protection. Sort of. I struck a bit of a deal with one of the boss men 'cause I knew they'd want JD more than they want me."

"That is proper _bananas_ , but I guess I should expect no less from you."

"I've managed to paint myself into a bit of a corner, though… I don't have easy access to my power, my bracer's getting weak, and it's been a while since I recharged…"

From the other end of the line came a long and worried sigh.

"Fuck."

"You're telling _me_. And I'm too shook up to go to a club or something. They're keeping close tabs on me besides."

"Look, I… You're going to have to give me a day or two. JD's got me on a job in… five hours from now and I don't know how long it's gonna take. I'll come as soon as I can, though. Should I track this number?"

Slumping over in relief, Jensen nodded, head knocking against the side of the payphone booth. "It's a payphone. There's a crummy hotel just behind it. I'm in 4-0-2."

"Am I coming through the window, or?"

"Use the front door this time. I'll just have to come up with an excuse if they call me out. Maybe I'll tell 'em you're a man-whore or something."

"Real classy, Jen. Real classy. Okay, well… Take care of yourself, please."

"Will do."

Jensen hung up the phone, noticing that his hand was shaking. One branch of magic that he'd never had the capacity for was precognition or Sight. It was an extremely rare ability and one of very few things that wasn't in his bag of tricks. But every now and then he got some serious feelings of foreboding, such that he knew there was no way of escaping whatever was coming. The only thing he could do was prepare himself.

 

+///+

 

"What is _up_ with you today?"

Jensen's head whipped around and his eyes swooped up toward Jared like he'd been sprung, except that as far as Jared could tell he wasn't even doing anything. In fact, he'd been staring at the same page of a case file for at least the last half hour, when usually he either flew through the reports or was busy making notes and sticking post-its everywhere. It was more than a little strange (even for a strange guy like Jensen) and it was just part of Jared's nature as an agent to wonder whether he was up to something – Jensen _was_ still a convicted criminal at the end of the day, one with years' worth of tricks up his sleeve, so it would be foolish of Jared to overlook the possibility of something underhanded going on despite Jensen's apparent amenability. Then again, Jared was generally pretty good at picking up 'vibes' from people, and Jensen's mood was not screaming sneaky or deceitful or any such thing. He seemed more… worried than anything. Perhaps something from the day before was weighing on his mind? 

"You've been distracted and jumpy as all get-out. You find something off in a casefile again?"

"Oh. I have?"

If Jensen was trying to act innocent he was doing a piss poor job of it, and Jared had no doubt that he was good enough of an actor to throw Jared off the scent if he put his mind to it. To be honest, there had been numerous times when Jared had had an inkling and probably should've pushed Jensen a little harder for information, that one time in the prison notwithstanding. But now that they'd spent a little time together, Jared felt that he had enough of a gauge on Jensen now that he could talk most things out of him if he really wanted to, except that he'd made himself hold off thus far. He couldn't say why, but he just needed Jensen to figure out that he could turn to Jared in his own time, he needed to avoid forcing the issue and making backward progress on the tenuous trust they'd built. It was… not his usual style, to go about things so leniently, but he was certain that this was the right path to take. 

He couldn't help that he'd developed a bit of a soft spot, he supposed, after everything that had happened… Or maybe it was just a Jensen-sensitive spot. Or whatever. 

"Spare me. _You_ know there's something on your mind, _I_ know there's something on your mind, why not share with the class? Spare us all the suspense."

Jensen glanced out the window, out into the distance, and he seemed to be thinking something over pretty hard. Jared could practically see the cogs turning. When he finally turned back Jared couldn't help but be a little shocked at the sudden change in his facial appearance. Jensen looked tired and… haunted. 

"Do you know anyone with Sight? Anyone who's a precog or clairvoyant in some way?"

The question was… completely unexpected, and it took a moment for Jared to catch up. Sight was a highly coveted ability and extremely rare. The FBI reportedly had two Seers under their employ but Jared had never encountered either of them, and nor had anyone in his team. They apparently came and went as they pleased, being that they couldn't always 'force' their powers to work, but that was about the extent of his knowledge.

"Uh, there was a girl I went to high school with who sometimes saw things, but not really, no."

"I have no aptitude whatsoever for predictions or premonitions or whatever you wanna call that stuff, but I sometimes get these… _feelings_. I know that's pretty vague. I can't really explain it. Just that yesterday…"

"Yesterday?" Jared prompted when Jensen paused mid-sentence.

"When I was doing my little astral projection number, I had this moment of awareness. It felt like someone was watching me, or maybe following me. I don't know. I never saw anyone or felt enough of a presence to be able to tell if it was a person actively invading my plane or if they were just passing by, but it rattled me. And then on my way back to the hotel last night I had this intense feeling that stopped me in my tracks."

"You think it's…?"

Pulling his fingers roughly through his hair, Jensen tried to shake off whatever the fear was that was eating at him.

"I dunno, man. JD is unpredictable at the best of times. And he has a lot of people with a lot of different Talents at his disposal, including some that are good at shadowing and navigating the astral plane. So it's possible, but there's no way to be sure. If I'd been using more power it might've been different but I was trying to keep a low profile."

Jared didn't know what to make of it all. Did he believe Jensen and his so-called 'feelings'? Or was he pulling some kind of ruse? It was hard to say. There was also the possibility that Jensen was succumbing to paranoia, which Jared couldn't really blame him for, but it only served to muddy some already murky waters. And then there was the man most likely behind it all. Jared had so many goddamn questions about this 'JD' guy it was driving him mad, and maybe he'd been biting his tongue for too long. The Locked Lips enchantment was still in effect, courtesy of the Director, but Jared knew there had to be a way around it. They were already talking about the right topic, so he should only have to imply…

"You know, you never mentioned why he wants to kill you."

"A whole bunch of reasons." The ensuing sigh took over Jensen's whole body.

"You never mentioned how you got to know him either. Or how long. Or what you did for him."

"Heh, how much time you got?"

He could tell Jensen didn't really want him to answer that, but he nearly did anyway. Because he wanted to _know_. He felt like there were these giant gaps of knowledge he was missing, things that would make the whole picture clear, things that might even help them get a proper handle on the case. And how to catch the sonovabitch. But Jensen waved him down before he could say anything.

"Don't answer that. I mean, I want to tell you everything but… it's not that simple. Or maybe it is… But it would change the way people think about me, and that side of things is already bad enough, y'know? Knowing JD, being in his inner circle for so many years, is something I regret. Except that even if this was a movie and I was given a chance to do things over, I would still have to go with him and go through all the things I went through. He helped me a lot in the beginning, taught me so many things… and I hate that he did. Only that I'd be dead otherwise."

"So he saved you? You probably felt like you owed him then."

"I suppose." Jensen swivelled around on his chair so Jared couldn't see his face. "Put it this way: He plucked me out of a situation where I would have been dead in a matter of months, and then put me in another situation where I ended up just _wishing_ I would die. The problem with JD is that he gets into your head. Makes you believe things…"

That turn of phrase hooked into Jared's intuition, and it suddenly clicked why Jensen must've had such an intense stance on mind magic – JD had likely fucked with Jensen's head during that time and messed him up something fierce. It was a wonder Jensen's brains weren't scrambled egg. He'd heard Beaver call the guy a 'brain worm' too, so clearly getting into people's heads had to be this guy's shtick. His Talent, even. 

A couple more puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

Figuring that one deep-and-meaningful was enough for the day, Jared turned his focus back to Jensen and was ready to change topics. Except that he'd already gotten to his feet and was slipping his jacket on, apparently more than a little eager to leave.

"I think I need some air."

"Wait, let me come with you."

Jensen gave a slow nod, then let Jared follow him out. After all the talk, Jared was getting his own 'feelings' about not leaving Jensen on his own just yet. Not that he thought Jensen would run off and do something stupid (or maybe he would) but the reminder of one JD Morgan still being out there, still after Jensen's blood, had him suddenly on edge. Paranoia was contagious, apparently. There was silence between them as they stepped into the elevator, but decidedly not the awkward kind, and not the tense kind either. And that meant something, right? Like that Jared was probably overthinking things again. He had a tendency to do that. Even so, he stayed on Jensen's heels as they left the building and headed down the road, quickly picking up that Jensen was leading him to a particular sandwich shop a couple of blocks away – one they'd been frequenting of late. They took their usual shortcut, turning down a much quieter lane way, one that wasn't completely devoid of people but where they didn't have to worry about actual traffic. Jared nodded to a lady he recognised from one of the reception desks in the FBI building, but otherwise didn't pay much attention to his surroundings as he passed them by. He was too focussed on watching the back of Jensen's neck, the short strands of dark blonde disappearing under the popped collar of his leather jacket. 

There was about a foot of distance between them, but Jared still felt the air change the moment Jensen missed a step and stiffened up beside him. They took another step in sync and Jensen hovered in close to Jared's shoulder, close enough that he could feel Jensen's breath coasting over his collarbone. It sent a shiver curling all the way down to his toes.

"You need to give me as much power as you can stand," Jensen whispered, his voice sounding oddly detached, "And you need to do it now."

"…What? Jensen, you can't be ser—"

"I'm dead serious. Just do it, Jared. Please. _Trust_ me."

Jared pursed his lips, not quite getting what the hell was going on, but since their little arrangement had begun Jensen hadn't yet given him any cause to not trust him. That he knew of. So he fed the usual spell through the face of his watch and upped the available power as much as he dared. The scent of Jensen's magic wafted up immediately, his arms tingling with the power passing through him. Two more steps and he realised Jensen was no longer at his side, and in glancing around he found the alley to be completely and uncharacteristically empty of other people. 

Except for one.

"Well, well, well."

A man stood about a hundred feet away wearing jeans and a bomber jacket, his stance open and confident. Jared caught the unpleasant chemical-like scent rolling off him in waves – an extremely odd smell for a person's magic to have.

"Tom," Jensen said, taking a step toward the man, "Don't do this."

"I've been looking for you, Jen. _We_ have been looking for you. Jeff just wants you to come home. He misses you like crazy."

"Yeah, you're not wrong about the crazy part."

"Aww, c'mon. Don't be like that. Come with me now and no one has to get hurt."

"You seem pretty confident for someone who knows what I'm capable of. You've never come close to beating me before, so what makes you think you can now?" 

Tom shrugged. "I got upgraded." 

"You stupid fuck." 

"Name calling ain't gonna stop me from _ending you_." 

After taking a couple of involuntary steps backward, Jared knew he needed to get out of the way. Where they were didn't offer much in the way of hiding spots, so the best he could do was to plaster himself against the side of one of the buildings with only a nearby dumpster for protection. It would just have to do. Because Jensen needed him to stay nearby, for his magic's sake. They hadn't tested how far away Jared could be standing before their bracelets lost contact and Jensen's power got cut off. And if this Tom guy was indeed one of JD's men, neither of them could afford Jensen's power being cut, Jensen couldn't afford to lose. Remembering their backup plan, Jared's fingers fumbled as he tried to grip his phone and unlock the damn thing, opening the call function and sending out the emergency signal. He had no idea how long it would take for the signal to do its thing, but they were hardly a block from HQ. Jensen could surely hold out that long…

Jared could barely breathe as he watched the two opponents size each other up. The two warring scents of their magic had his eyes watering from the sting, and his body was practically crackling with the electricity of Jensen's power flowing through him. He'd never felt anything like it. It was a different sensation than what he'd felt before, first at Mrs Tapping's apartment and then the Locating spell from the previous day. There was something heavier about it this time. _Meaner_. Which made some kind of sick sense. He could almost see it, clear as day, that Jensen was preparing to kill.

He wanted to stop him, wanted to shout _no, don't_ , remind Jensen of that noble streak he possessed. But he couldn't do it. He just knew that Tom was waiting for the slightest opportunity, the slightest crack in the veneer, and distracting Jensen in that moment… it could cost them both their lives. He had no doubts about that. 

Stark whiteness washed over Jared's vision, flashing before his eyes, and it forced him to grab at the side of the dumpster to keep himself upright. Whatever the dizziness was seemed to pass for a moment, disappearing as quickly as it had come, but a second later and it was back again. The power rushing through his body was like a tidal wave, threatening to pick him up and sweep him away with its sheer strength. He shook with the reminder of the headache he'd ended up with the day before after Jensen's Location spell, and couldn't fathom how much his head was going to hurt after… whatever was going on now. 

He planted himself on the ground behind the dumpster and looked out, watching the gathering storms swirl around each of the two men. Balls of fiery energy were accumulating atop Tom's hands, similar (albeit more powerful) to the flame attacks Alona liked to use, while Jensen's entire body seemed to be glowing red like a tube of neon – yet another spell Jared had never encountered before. He could only see Jensen from side-on, couldn't make out the expression on his face, but something about the way he stood, his command of his power, was absolutely fucking frightening. It was a stark and shocking reminder of who Jensen really was and what he could do. They'd been playing nice with each other since the agreement with Richings was put into play, discussing cases and crimes like they were good for a laugh, going to lunch, getting coffee… Jared had almost forgotten who he was dealing with. 

There was no chance of forgetting now, not with the deluge that was passing through his body then and there, the power that was building and twisting with each passing second. Jared tried to push past the faintness he was starting to feel, ignoring the sweat that was beading on the surface of his skin, and he began to wade through the energy that was lighting him up like someone had shoved an ever-exploding firework in his belly. That initial feeling of malice still coloured everything he could feel, but Jared was relieved to realise that that wasn't all there was. Jensen was building a spell of such intricacy, such detail, that it would be easy to mistake it for a straightforward attack manoeuvre and nothing more. Clothed in an obvious shell of malevolence, what was hidden beneath would go unnoticed until the spell finally made contact and broke open, until it was too late.

The tension in the air finally snapped.

Tom made the first move and Jared couldn't stop the tendrils of panic from creeping their way up his neck, his stomach twisting itself into knots. Missiles of deadly fire flew down the length of the alley, burning out against the bricks and pavement, leaving blackened scorch marks in their wake. Jensen dodged them with ease however, moving out of their pathway as if it were nothing. Jared expected him to retaliate, to turn and fire back at his opponent while he was still forming his next attack, but Jensen seemed to make no effort to expel the spell he'd constructed, the mysterious red glow still radiating from his body. Tom threw another attack toward him, and what looked like thousands of tiny white-hot needles flew through the air aiming directly at Jensen, but Jensen didn't even move this time. He just stood there. Still as a statue.

Jared's heart was in his throat as he waited for the fallout… but the seconds passed and nothing happened. Whether the needles bounced off of Jensen or passed right on through or did something else entirely, Jared couldn't fathom a guess. Jensen simply held his ground, keeping his power steady, waiting, waiting. And Tom was getting agitated. 

"I will _end_ you, Jensen! I'm not gonna settle for second place any longer! Thanks to Jeff I'm even more powerful than before, so there's no—"

The words ended with a strained gurgle, Tom clutching at his face, his eyes going wide with horror. 

Jared was panting heavily, his body getting weak, but he forced himself to keep watching, knowing in his gut that it was almost over. Jensen was making his move. A move that turned out to be almost anticlimactic, if Jared were being honest. After all of Tom's blatant display of fiery muscle, and Jensen's unmoving pillar-of-strength act, all that it took to bring it to an end was a short flick of Jensen's hand. The neon glow drained out of him almost instantly, disappearing below his feet, and Jared almost wondered what had happened to it except that it reappeared in Tom's body only a split second later. The man's entire being shone red, radiating in that sickly ruby-red light, and then he started to scream. 

The flood of magic that had been rushing through Jared's body the whole time finally abated, his limbs finally giving out and sending him to the ground. Pain exploded in his head, pain like he'd never felt before, with the sort of intensity that forced you out of your own body. Fingers were digging into his temples – his own fingers it seemed – and his vision started to get hazy.

The last thing he saw was Jensen on his knees, Tom before him, twisting and struggling and pleading.

~

"Jared? You in there?"

Jared blinked his eyes open, wincing at the sudden intake of light. 

There were agents everywhere throughout the alleyway, most of them in tactical gear and carrying anti-magic weapons, but they appeared to be idly standing around and not looking as if they were expecting a fight.

 _A fight_ …

His memories came back to him in a rush, and Jared looked up at Jensen, connecting the dots. He was still on the ground, behind the dumpster, his limbs all heavy and his clothes sticking to the cold-sweatiness of his body. Jared heaved himself upward, waiting for the hurt to kick in… but something was keeping it at bay.

"What'd I miss?" he croaked, a dry cough bubbling up from his throat. 

"Not much. I've given Beaver the basic rundown of events. The medics are waiting to get their hands on us, but I asked them to wait."

Right. Medics. And come to think of it, Jensen did indeed look a bit worse for wear. Or, more accurately, he looked like fucking death warmed up. _Christ_. What in the hell kind've spell had that been?

"You good?" was the best he could manage.

"I'm not hurt but I'm really fucking depleted. I guess I'm a little out of practice… What about you, though?" 

A hand came down on Jared's arm, and he couldn't stop looking at it. The glamoured leather cuff on Jensen's wrist – which Jared was decidedly starting to hate – was clearly visible, the long sleeves of his shirt having been rucked up to his elbows. The hand itself was solid, though. Strong despite Jensen's obvious state of exhaustion. Jared imagined he could feel the warmth of it through his shirt and suit jacket.

"I mean, you passed out, but you waited til I was done, which was very thoughtful of you. So thanks for that."

Regardless of the pain he'd been in at the time, Jared remembered everything clear as day. "It hit me that if I lost consciousness you'd probably get cut-off… There's a lot about this, _our_ , situation we haven't taken into account."

"Probably. But you're not hurting, right?"

"No, I… Did you do something? I passed out 'cause of my head, but…"

Jensen's lips twisted, then he looked away.

"You weren't coherent but I managed to wake you for a few seconds before the troops got here, so I might've healed you a little bit… We don't need to talk about that though, right?"

"Uh, right." Jared's hands curled themselves into fists, and he forced himself to ignore yet another evasion that he probably could have avoided if he pressed a bit more. Unfortunately neither of them were really in the right state of mind for anything so involved. "And Tom?"

"I trapped him in a makeshift draining net. He'll be fine. I think."

"Are you sure? That spell—"

"Was complicated as fuck, and pretty fucking nasty all said and done, but he'll live. It basically attacked all the unnatural magic in his system, of which there was a lot. Hence the, uh... awfulness."

"Unnatural magic?" Jared had never heard of such a thing. Someone using magic, or having magic in their body, that wasn't _theirs_ , that they'd gotten from _somewhere else_ … surely it was impossible?

Jensen sighed. "In a nutshell, there are ways of transplanting stolen power into people. It's a dangerous business – crude, experimental, unethical, and very black market. Not good for the body or the mind. It's more or less a death sentence." 

Black market magic? Another thing that Jared was only just hearing about for the first time. Someone in the FBI had to know that this was going on though, so perhaps it was time for a chat with one of his friends in Organised Crime… Chad would be the most likely to spill, so Jared would have to think about contacting him on the sly. They hadn't talked in a while, both their teams had been busy lately, but in Jared's opinion there was never a bad time to tease his friend about the scent of his magic – it was a source of endless amusement that a guy so overtly and stubbornly 'masculine' had magic that smelled like strawberries and white chocolate. Speaking of which—

"He smelled like chemicals."

"What?"

Finally sitting himself all the way upright, Jared repeated himself. It all made sense now. "His magic, it smelled like chemicals. Like industrial cleaner or something. Magic shouldn't smell like that, so I knew something was off, I just didn't know what."

"Makes sense." Jensen said, nodding to himself. He was starting to turn paler by the minute and Jared didn't like it one bit. Where were those medics…?

"I think we should get you checked out and back to the hotel, huh?"

"Might be a good idea."

 

+///+

 

Jensen stepped out from the back of the ambulance and slipped down onto the sidewalk, not bothering to wave as they drove away. 

He was more than a little unsteady on his feet (he was hobbling along like a drunk, let's be honest) but SAC Beaver had asked them to drop him right in front of the hotel and they'd obliged. It wasn't as if he was actually injured or anything. He'd allowed the EMTs to check him over briefly, informing him of his severe depletion, and it had taken nearly all his remaining strength to bite down on the _'no shit'_ that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Sighing, he shuffled through the hotel entrance, pausing briefly against an empty space on the wall when the world suddenly went for a little spin. He breathed in deep through his nose, trying to collect himself enough to travel the final distance up to his room. He'd been just about to move again, just about to brave it, when a certain tone of voice caught his ear. One that had him leaning back against the wall in relief instead of discomfort. He was saved. 

"Jen? Jesus. How long have you been like this? I got here as fast as I could."

"Right on time, as far as I'm concerned."

Smiling over at his friend, Jensen let Chris get his arms around him and bear the brunt of his weight. They were stumbling into Jensen's room in a matter of minutes and Jensen pretty much face-planted onto the bed as soon as he was within reach. He didn't even have the energy to care that Chris would be all over the hotel and FBI security cameras.

"What the fuck, man? What the hell happened?"

Jensen snorted against the unmade bed covers – he'd left the 'do not disturb' sign out that morning, as he did most mornings. He didn't like people messing with his shit, meagre though it was. 

"Tom happened. That's what."

"Yeesh. He's gone absolutely mental, that kid. Real fuckin' tragic. You kill him?"

"Nah. Was tempted to. Burned that poison shit right outta him, though. He screamed like a banshee."

"Yeah? With that weird red glowy thing you cooked up a while back?"

Jensen could hear Chris fussing around behind him, but he didn't bother checking what he was up to. He had neither the strength nor the inclination. And besides, he trusted Chris more than just about anyone else he'd ever known.

"That's the one. I even slipped it along under the ground, so he never saw it comin'. Too preoccupied with throwin' things. If I hadn't been so damn anxious about the whole situation I probably would'a enjoyed it."

"Well, all I'll say about 'the whole situation' is that _you_ got yourself into this mess. I trust that you've got your reasons, but I'm not going to feel sorry for you."

Strong hands flipped him over on the bed and Jensen just went with it. He said nothing as Chris pulled him up and started pulling his clothes off, throwing his shirt and jeans and socks onto the floor. The both of them were left in only their boxers as Chris arranged them under the sheets and pulled Jensen into his arms. The familiar feel, the familiar smell, lulled him into the most relaxed state he'd experienced in literal months. It took a few moments for the connection to take hold, and he gasped when his long-suffering Source finally kicked in, energy flowing freely. Even with the MID's bracelet in play and slightly hindering the process, the pure relief was nothing short of euphoric.

"Goddammit, Jensen. Much more and you could'a killed yourself."

"I know. Fuck. I _know_. I'm just trying to protect myself and it's getting harder to keep… I dunno… I keep lying. I keep running. But I'm tired, man. So tired of it."

Chris' fingers carded through his hair. "Tell me?"

"So much has happened since I last saw you… I managed to stay off grid for a few months but there was a slip-up when Rob was doing some touch-ups on the drainer. Danni and Steve found me soon after. I'd hoped I might've been able to talk them out of it but their minds were just… gone. There was nothing left. JD had turned them into shells of themselves, loaded them up like walking talking bombs. I didn't want to do what I did, but…"

"You had no choice, Jen."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jensen forced his way past the pain and regret of his lost friends – he'd shut them into an alternate plane of existence to spare himself from having to kill them, but he might as well have done it. The end result was essentially the same. "It doesn't matter. I was well and truly exposed after that and I was running out of options fast. Mike, Ty, Ruth… they all managed to corner me at some point. I somehow got it into my head that getting caught by law enforcement might be a way out – the MID was already on my trail, and JD has been on the Mirage Team's radar for some time now… I figured I had means to make a bargain if I had to."

"And you had to, I'm guessing."

Some fuckwit in the jail managed to spontaneously contract himself a case of brain-worm. Stabbed me."

The arms around him pulled a little tighter and Jensen squeezed back in kind. What he would've given to have had Chris by his side 'back then'. Maybe he wouldn't have had to opt for last resorts. But then, Chris was in a unique position. One that was in everyone's best interests that he keep. Having both an 'in' with Jeff and an unexplainable immunity to mind magic made him an invaluable double-agent, if he could even be called that. However, he'd only started playing for the other side when Jensen finally escaped from under Jeff's thumb, when he'd gone running straight to Chris and explained what was really happening. The story of what Jeff's Circle of Magnitude had really been doing with (and _to_ ) Jensen, plus all the stolen artefacts, all the mindless zombies that were at Jeff's beck and call, it was more than enough to flip him. Chris still did the job he'd always done, but now he was much more strategic with his handling of information. He even had a direct line of contact with the MID's Mirage Team 2.

"I heard about that," Chris admitted, and Jensen could hear the barely restrained resentment in his voice, "But only after the fact. For a short time JD actually thought you were dead."

"It was a near thing. But then I took a chance with this agent and—"

"And got yourself tethered down with your wings clipped," Chris's anger was laced with bitterness, and he grabbed at the leather band on Jensen's right wrist – he wasn't fooled by the ineffectually crafted glamour meant to hide its true purpose, "Can't say I'm a fan of this arrangement. And Christ help me if you tell me 'it's not so bad' or some shit. Magic is who you are, Jen. It's _what_ you are. Your body needs it but you're letting yourself be cut-off for—"

"For the sake of bringing JD down." Jensen could feel his pulse jumping around in his veins. "And if this is what it takes then I'm gonna do it. The MID has resources. It has the goddamn Mirage Team. If they can't take him down then who can?"

" _You_ , you dumbass. You could end him as easy as stomping on a roach with your boot… Jeff's just got your head so fucked up and turned 'round that you can't see it. Instead you're playing live bait for the Feds and your power's at the mercy of some no-name suit when you could be—"

"Fuck you. His name's Jared and he's actually a pretty reasonable guy. A _nice_ guy. He trusts me. Like, genuinely."

Chris raised a brow. "Jared, huh? And he trusts you? Clearly he's as much a moron as you are."

There wasn't enough room to get a good run up, but Jensen still threw his fist at Chris's chest, muttering a sour-sounding _ya jerk_ under his breath. He waited for the rest of the teasing he was sure was coming, but Chris suddenly seemed more interested in his other arm. Particularly his wrist. And Jensen gasped when Chris grabbed hold of it, hissing when the grip was too tight on his tender skin.

"And what about this?" Chris' gaze was accusatory. He knew Jensen far too well.

"It's fucked is what it is."

The bracer's viability was hanging by a thread, Jensen could feel it. For the moment the FBI's bracelet was acting as a safety net, but if the bracer failed completely, the bracelet would be little more than a trendy accessory.

"At least you're being honest about _that_. You called Rob yet?"

"He's working on it. Or I hope he is. It's not gonna hold up much longer. And if the Feds keep needing me to use my power like I have been…"

"Fuck, Jensen. I don't know how you've managed to screw yourself this royally. If I wasn't so worried 'bout you I'd be impressed."

Jensen couldn't help but flush a little. "You don't have to worry, y'know. I'll figure it out somehow. I always do."

Chris' lips were dry as they pressed against his. Warm and familiar. 

"I know. But I can't help but worry anyway. I'll get in touch with Rob tomorrow and see where he's at, okay?"

The second kiss was inevitable at that point. As was the third. And Jensen took a moment to bask in the comfort of it, letting Chris take control of the situation and dote on him for a little bit. Chris' mouth still tasted the same, his teeth still liked to bite at Jensen's bottom lip, at the skin just below his ear, and he couldn't not think of the last time they'd done this, how short and sweet and laced with anxiety it'd been. Jensen had known he would have to make a run for it afterward, that he would have to leave his friend behind. Chris still worked for JD after all, and he still had JD's trust, even if his loyalty was with Jensen. 

The ensuing years had been lonely ones for Jensen. Not that he'd been celibate or anything, but the threat had been too great for him to go around making friends, making connections. Jeff's shadow followed him everywhere he went, and the thought of bringing such a thing down upon someone else was a risk he didn't dare take. No one deserved a fate like that. He knew the terror of it firsthand. To be ravaged from the inside out…

"Stop thinking," Chris grumbled against the skin of his throat, a hand gliding down the slope of Jensen's waist, "I can hear it from here."

"Can't help it."

"Then I'll just have to make you."

Pushing Jensen down onto his back, Chris manoeuvred his way on top of him, legs slipping between Jensen's thighs. Both of them were hard in their boxer shorts, teasing each other with quick twists of their hips, but Jensen lost out when Chris started in with the magic. It was just a little at first, soft sparks through his fingertips, but Jensen found himself so hypersensitive to it that all thought process capability seemed to disappear from his being, pleasure and desperation taking its place. Once upon a time this sort of play had been an everyday thing, whether with friends or lovers it didn't matter. The circle he'd once moved around in had lived and breathed with their power and it was strange to think how much things had changed, how it compared to his current situation. Chris leaving crackling streaks of sensation all over his body reminded him how little magic he'd been in the presence of lately, how cut-off from his previous life he had become, mostly without even realising it. Which in turn reminded him of that damn bracelet again (was it ruling or shielding his life? He couldn't tell…) which in turn reminded him of the FBI and the MID and—

"Wait. Stop."

Chris paused mid-motion, his magic fizzling out at his fingertips. He said nothing as he pushed the sheets away and sat back on his heels, waiting. Jensen could see the hard length of his dick standing out behind the cotton of his boxers and had to make himself look away. He didn't mean to stop so suddenly, but his thoughts were getting in the way big time, and it wouldn't be right for either or them to keep going. Not when Jensen couldn't even focus on the one amazing guy he was already lying in bed with.

"Sorry."

"What's going on, Jen? It's okay if you're not into it, but tell—"

"It's not that I'm not into it. It's just…" Jensen threw his arm over his face. " _Shit._ "

They sat there, unmoving, as the minutes ticked by. 

"Oh." Somehow Chris slid everything into place. He was annoying like that. "You're into him, aren't you? Like, _into him_ into him."

"I am _not_. I just… He's… _Shit_ … Shit, shit, shit, shit."

 

+///+

 

Jared wasn't sure he was doing the right thing by stopping at the hotel the next day. He'd told Jensen to only come into the office if he felt up to it – they'd both had a pretty rough time of it after all – but when lunchtime had rolled around with no sign of him, Jared just couldn't stop himself. 

He'd checked the location on Jensen's bracelet, just to be sure (of course he was right where he should've been), and then he'd taken himself straight to Jensen's hotel room door. He didn't knock straight away, however. He needed to think about things for a moment, make sure he wasn't being overbearing, or reading things wrongly. And he wasn't, right? By the time he'd left the scene the day before, Jensen had looked half dead. It was only normal that Jared would be worried. They'd sent him back to the hotel on his own for fuck's sake, and no one had any clue how much sunshine it actually took to recharge the guy. He could be on the floor, unconscious, starving, and no one would know.

And then of course there was the other stuff that kept flitting through his mind. The touches and the shared looks… Maybe Jared was imagining it. Contriving meaning where there really wasn't any. Imposing his feelings upon another person who really didn't deserve any more pressure than he was already under. But still, he _thought_ there was something there, and he needed to know before it started driving him batshit crazy. 

So he knocked. 

He stuck his free hand in his pocket. Then took it out again. Then patted down his blazer and fiddled with his collar.

When the door finally cracked open he'd been expecting to see a ghost, the leftovers of the day before's beatdown, but instead… Jensen looked more stunning than Jared had ever seen him look. His skin was smooth and healthy-pink, his eyes were bright and clear (and so, so green), and the sleep-rumpledness only made him look all the cuter. He was a fucking vision.

"Uh. Hey, Jared."

"Jensen. Hi. Umm, sorry if I woke you. I just… wanted to check on you and I brought you some food," he held up the paper bag, "In case you missed dinner or something."

"That's… really nice, Jared. Thanks."

Jensen took the proffered bag and an awkward silence ensued. Jared had expected to be invited in, for Jensen to maybe chat with him a bit like he usually did, but that didn't seem to be the order of the day. Instead they just seemed to stand there, not talking, not moving, until a particular smell started to waft out from the room beyond the door. Something sort of like bitter caramel, and grapefruit, and something vaguely salty… The complex scent of someone's magic. Someone that was decidedly not Jensen.

_Oh._

Stepping back, Jared got a brief flash of the state of the room. There were bags against the wall that weren't familiar, and the bed covers were all messed up, and the bed… was occupied. Someone's bare back was facing the door. At first the longer hair had Jared thinking it was a woman, but that set of shoulders… There was no way.

"I… fuck. I'm sorry. I'll just… go."

"Jared, wait. I—"

"There's nothing in your deal that stops you from having… _visitors_ , okay? You don't have to explain, Jensen. It's fine."

"No, it's not like that. Jared, wait—"

Jared had just started to turn away, ready to leave in a right goddamn hurry, when Jensen reached out. Fingers closed around his hand, hot against his palm, gripping on tight. Their first touch of skin on skin. But then the fingers stiffened and Jensen let go a loud gasp, and Jared whipped back around thinking that something was suddenly, terribly wrong. Except it wasn't. Or maybe it was. It was hard to tell. Jensen's whole body had gone rigid, the paper bag in his other hand dropping to the carpet, and his eyes had gone all shiny and unfocused. Jared wasn't sure whether he should pull away or move closer and Jensen was giving him no real clues. He had automatically assumed that something bad was happening, that was just how his brain worked, except that the expression on Jensen's face spoke nothing of pain or discomfort. Instead he looked… kinda blissed-out.

"Whoa, whoa, okay now."

The decision was made for him when Jensen's 'guest' appeared from behind, now wearing a hurriedly thrown on pair of jeans and t-shirt, and started pulling Jensen away. The scent of burnt caramel was stirred up again and Jared's eyes were drawn to the faint golden glow that was wrapped around the man's arms, like shimmering gloves that spanned from his hands to his elbows. 

"Jen? Jen, you gotta calm down now, man. Last thing I need is you overloading on me. I can't help you with that, remember?"

Jensen was pushed back against the wall and the guy held him there firmly, making a point to only touch him with his glowing hands. Jared had no idea what was happening in that moment but it was becoming more and more apparent to him that Jensen and this guy knew each other – seemingly in an intimate way. Jared wasn't sure why he'd made the assumption that Jensen had just picked up some random hook-up for the night, but he supposed it was just because of his own wishful thinking, hoping that this guy didn't really mean anything. Turned out he couldn't have been more wrong.

"I'm… just gonna…"

"Hold it right there."

For the second time in as many minutes Jared turned to leave and was once again stopped in his tracks. Except that this time it wasn't Jensen doing the stopping. His 'friend' was. And even though Jared had to look down to meet the man's eyes, he felt immediately small. Something about the guy screamed _power_ and _strength_. Someone not to be messed with. Someone that made him think he should probably start carrying his anti-magic weapon more consistently. 

"You're Jared, right?"

Jared nodded, feeling as if the guy's narrowed stare was pinning him in place, like a butterfly under glass.

"I'm Chris. I've known Jensen for a long time."

"Uh, nice to meet y—"

"We didn't fuck. I want you to know that." Chris was dead serious, and Jared couldn't even imagine what the look on his own face must have been. "Jensen told me he's gone and gotten himself hooked on a Fed, who I'm guessing is you. I'm hoping you won't use that against him."

"I wouldn't—"

"Save it. You should tell _him_ that, not me. When he's got himself under control again, that is. His magic's fucked up and unstable 'cause of all the drama these past few months and I don't have the right Talents to help him with that. So I'm gonna sit and watch him 'til he figures his own shit out, then I'll leave. You, though? You're gonna come back here tomorrow and you're gonna make him talk. Got it?"

"Umm. About anything in particular?"

Chris's gaze softened and his body language relaxed a little, though it didn't make Jared feel any less vulnerable. 

"Jensen carries a lot of secrets. If you're worth your salt then you know that already. But if you trust Jensen even a fraction of the amount he seems to trust you, and if you care for him at all, then there's some shit you need to know. If you come back tomorrow, you make him talk and you _help_ him. Otherwise send someone else. You clear?"

"Crystal."

Without another word he disappeared with Jensen behind the door, the lock clicking into place, and Jared was left to stew in his many and convoluted thoughts. Chris had all but confirmed that Jensen was interested in him, that those looks and touches did indeed mean something, and yet Jared felt no less confused than he had been before he'd arrived. But one thing was for certain – he _did_ care for Jensen, more than he ever would have expected, more than he was ready to admit to himself, and he _would_ come back the next day. The thought of Jensen finally unloading some of the secrets he'd been sitting on was kind of a frightening prospect. Jared wanted the answers, of course he did, but he had no idea what the questions really were, nor how things would be afterwards. He'd never forgotten Jensen's previous admission that things being in the open 'would change the way people think about him', and he couldn't really imagine the implications of that, what sort of things would make Jensen feel that way, but he would try his best to help Jensen through it. That was all he could do.

For the third and final time he turned to leave. 

They still didn't know the distance limit on their paired bracelets, but all the same, he fed a firm _give_ through his watch and then walked away in a hurry. Before he could change his mind.

~

The MID was abuzz when he returned, Beaver quickly grabbing his attention and waving him into his office from across the room. Something was up, and having more craziness on his mind was the last thing he needed. Still, it wasn't like he had a choice.

"What's going on?"

Beaver gestured for him to take a seat.

"We've been contacted by Organised Crime. They have a huge case that's finally ready to be busted open and they've asked for our cooperation. It's something they've been digging up for a while now. They've got active undercovers and other agents in place ready to move. They're just waiting on us, to see how much help we can offer."

"If they want our help, why are they only telling us about this now? Isn't it a bit last minute?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Beaver heaved a sigh. "Tell me about it. To be fair, OC do have their own High Level agents and they receive help periodically from Mirage Team 2 – I'm guessing you know about those guys by now…"

"Only the basics. They're highly powerful, highly specialised, they answer only to the Director… That's about it. But if they're already helping then what do OC need us for?"

"I'll give you one guess." Beaver sat forward in his seat, wearing a grave expression. "What do we have at our current disposal that we didn't have before?"

Jared's fists clenched in his lap.

_Fuck._

"We obtained footage of the alleyway from a nearby street camera. It's got a reasonable view of what happened yesterday. All the higher-ups have seen it and SAC Stewart was particularly impressed with Jensen's abilities. He's not your everyday spell-weaver, that's for sure."

"So what happens now?"

"They've given us three days to make a decision, not that we have a lot of leverage to say no. They haven't asked us to put Jensen into their custody, so you would still be his handler and therefore both of you would be expected to participate in the takedown. I know it ain't great timing but we'd need a hell of a reason to decline. The Director is in favour of it, unfortunately."

Avoiding making eye contact, Jared got up from his seat and prepared to head back to his own office. He had a lot of thinking to do and not all that much time to do it in. "I'm going back to check on him tomorrow. I'll talk to him about it and let you know."

 

+///+

 

It was the incessant poking that woke him. Poking courtesy of Chris's finger, jabbing sharply into his shoulder. Poking that turned into slapping and punching when Jensen simply groaned and tried to pull the sheets over his head.

"Rob'll be here in a minute. Wake your ass up."

Groaning some more, Jensen rolled over and did as he was told, pulling some clothes on before heading into the bathroom and splashing some water on his face. The last twenty-four hours had been a bit of a rollercoaster and he was still getting over it. He wasn't recovering as quickly as he would've done a few months back. Getting cut off from one's power wasn't exactly good for the body, nor for the Source, and so with the length of time he'd spent being cut off, then needing to use his last reserves of power, getting depleted, not recharging properly, then recharging a _shitload_ in a short amount of time, his power was going to need time to settle back into a more normal rhythm. It helped that Jared seemed to have allowed him access to his power after he'd left earlier that day. Jensen wasn't sure why exactly he'd done that, and if anyone found out he would probably get into some serious trouble, but Jensen was grateful for the gesture. Even though it had him worrying constantly about the bracer on his left arm, it was far better for his magic to be able to flow (at least moderately) freely. He just had to hope Rob would have a solution ready for him.

Speaking of which…

Looking out into the twilight sky, Jensen spotted a distant speck up in the air. One that was hovering up about where the birds should be, and getting bigger by the second. Chris opened the sliding door leading out to the balcony and before long two feet were touching down safely onto the ground, Rob standing there in all his clever and compact glory. Flying was a tricky business by anyone's standards. Even those with plenty of power to spare found it difficult to manage for more than a few seconds at a time, but Rob just had an innate 'lightness' that made him an absolute natural at it. On paper, air and wind related spells were his Talent, but Jensen (being the expert in deception that he was) knew precisely how good of a façade it was.

"Robbie."

"Chris, long time no see? And Jensen!"

Jensen suddenly found himself with an armful of magi-tech extraordinaire, who slipped away again as quickly as he'd come.

"Uh, hey Robbie. How's things?"

"Much better now. I've been fretting like crazy since you called me. You know I hate talking on the phone."

"Sorry to put that on you. If there'd been any other way…"

Rob waved him off. "I know, Chris already filled me in. And you know I could never be angry with you."

"I hope to never have to test you on that."

"So," Chris cut in, clearing his throat and pointedly looking in Jensen's direction, "Shall we get started?"

Sitting himself on the edge of the bed with an audible huff, Jensen held out his left arm and summoned a tendril of his magic, unravelling the irrationally complex glamour from around it. He didn't have to look at either of his friends to know what they must have been thinking. He knew better than anyone that it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Jesus fuck, Jensen."

"That looks… really bad," Rob sounded distressed and Jensen hated that more than anything, "I'm kinda amazed it hasn't dropped off."

"What, the bracer?"

"No, his arm!"

Tuning out the tennis-match of comments that ensued, Jensen cradled his arm against his chest. Now bare and exposed, it hurt like crap. The glamour he used to hide it, one of his own design, had both strengthening and pain-blocking threads woven in, so without it he was feeling the true depth of the injury. From his elbow to the base of his thumb was mottled black and blue and it made the whole left side of his body throb just by looking at it. It ached when he tried to move his fingers, and merely touching the skin set off a whole load of discomfort. Touching the bracer itself wasn't much better. 

It was a beautiful piece of work, as all of Rob's creations were. A leather base with an inlaid design, numerous metals made into shapes and swirls so fine they looked like filigree. At first glance it appeared like something straight out of a fantasy movie, but Jensen was well aware that each and every fragment had a purpose, that none of it was fashioned for appearances' sake. Had Jensen not been hindered by the FBI's bracelet he would have been able to sense the magic vibrating through it without even having to touch it.

"Let's get a look at the damage then, shall we?"

Jensen came back to the conversation at hand as Rob got down on his knees at Jensen's feet, opening up the tool kit he'd brought with him. The first thing he pulled out of it was a flashlight. Plain black, seemingly nothing out of the ordinary, until he gave it a shake and turned it on. The blueish light that filtered out hit the bracer on Jensen's arm and lit it up like someone had suddenly flipped a switch. The metalwork appeared to glow under the light, but not all of it was clear and brightly shining – certain pieces looked dull, while others failed to shine at all. 

"That's where it's completely degraded," Rob explained, "And the dull bits aren't far off."

Chris hummed in agreement. "Looks about sixty-percent? Maybe a bit more?"

"You need at least twenty to thirty percent to be functioning for it to keep doing its job."

"So I'm cutting it pretty close then…" Jensen glanced over to Rob's tool box. "You're not hiding a brand new one in there by any chance?"

"I wish. I promise I've started working on it, though. It's just that some of the metals are hard to get a hold of. They have to be completely pure or exactly the right composition, else the magic won't take properly."

Jensen tried not to show his trepidation. "Is there anything you can do in the meantime?"

"I can do some patching up, but you're going to need to watch your magic use. The make-up of the original spellwork is compromised, so at this point it won't take much for it to be destroyed beyond repair."

"And that's the last thing I need right now. After my little encounter with Tom… I can’t imagine the FBI are gonna let me off easy after that. I used a sixteen-component spell, for fuck's sake. If they don't strap me to a chair and try to torture the recipe outta me I'll be pretty damn surprised."

"Let's not forget they've got Tom in their custody now, too," Chris warned, sitting himself down at Jensen's side, "If they get him to talk… Things could get very bad very quickly. And maybe it's just me but I'd rather my next mission not be having to bust you out from the bowels of the FBI after they go all mad scientist and start chopping you to bits."

"You and me both. I've had enough of being in cages lately, thanks. So I'm just hoping that my frying his magic might've fried his coherence as well. And I can't imagine JD wouldn't have put failsafes in place to keep him from giving anything up to an Interrogator." 

Rob's answering sigh filled the whole room. "This is all a little too much uncertainty for my liking."

The conversation ground to a halt as Rob retrieved some more of his work tools and started patching up Jensen's bracer wherever he could. It didn't take long for his whole arm to start aching and Chris pushed him down flat onto the bed before he even got around to mentioning it. Rob continued to work as Jensen lay there, drifting in and out. He was decidedly more toward the 'out' end of the scale when Rob finally reached the end of his mending efforts and packed up his equipment, and Jensen only perked up again when he heard the word 'goodbye' get thrown around.

"You leaving?" he asked, pushing himself upright on the bed.

Rob nodded. "Yeah. I've done as much as I could. Please remember what I said?" 

"I'll do my best."

Looking down at the mess that was his left arm, Jensen calmed his thoughts, calmed his anger and his worry, and started to weave.

_Flesh, secret, strength, concealment, negate pain, deceive, flesh, suppression, enfold, concealment._

The spell took hold and staring back at him was a completely normal-looking arm, no different from anyone else's. Most glamours, like the one still active over his FBI bracelet, only utilised about three or four components – just enough to cover up whatever it was, but not enough to fool someone who was looking for it. The glamour he used for his arm on the other hand… it was the second 'concealment' that made all the difference. It tucked the spell in on itself and made it nearly impossible to detect, regardless of whether someone was checking him over for changed appearance or for magical residue. It even seemed to have flown under Jared's radar, which was saying something.

Content that the glamour was complete and stable, Jensen glanced up to find both Chris and Rob staring at him, awed looks on their faces.

"What? 'S'just a glamour…" he shrugged.

"Yeah, but," Rob scratched at his beard, "It's the _way_ you weave. It's so effortless. It pours out of you like water. Makes me a little jealous even."

"You know better than that, though."

"Maybe. But still…"

With a wave, Rob was back up in the air and skipping across the city sky like Mary Poppins, leaving Jensen and Chris on their own once more.

"Uh… so. Pizza and Poker?"

"You're on."

 

+///+

 

Arriving at Jensen's door the next day gave Jared an eerie sense of déjà vu. Except that standing outside the door, a bag of food in his hand, was where the similarities seemed to end. He hesitated as he raised his hand to knock, dropping his arm back down to his side again with a shake of his head. But he might as well have not even bothered trying, because not a moment later he felt a vague tingle run the length of his arm, and then the door opened of its own accord, swinging all the way back against the wall.

"You comin' in?"

Jared stepped inside and shut the door behind him, slotting the safety chain into place for whatever good it would do. He then turned to face Jensen who (presumably) hadn't moved from his spot sitting on the mattress edge. He still looked as well as he had the day before, but there was definitely a calmer, more serene air about him now – Jared had felt the various instances of Jensen using his magic since he'd left the day before, so he imagined that to be part of the reason. Nothing major, of course. Just little trickles of it here and there. And nothing significant enough for Jared to get a feel for what kind of spells they were. It hadn't stopped him wondering, though. The way things had gone the previous day with Jensen grabbing his hand and then checking out, with Chris appearing in a hurry and telling Jared to take a hike… He'd played it over and over again in his mind, trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out what he was missing. Only that this was Jensen he was talking about. Jensen, a.k.a. _The Ghost_ , a.k.a. a rare and elusive Level 10. He couldn't even begin to guess.

"Sorry about all the fuss yesterday. Chris can be a little overprotective."

"I noticed," Jared shrugged, dropping the bag of bagels down on the bedside table and sticking his hands in his pockets. He wondered whether he looked as awkward as he felt, because he felt pretty fucking awkward. Standing there all tense, hands balled into fists, shoulders up near his ears, and his face all scrunched up from thinking too hard. He had all these thoughts and questions and worries and not the vaguest sense of where or how to start letting them out. 

Sighing, Jared glanced around the meagre space of the hotel room, as if it might somehow 'magically' produce the answers he sought. A futile exercise, obviously, but a good way for an FBI agent to flex their curiosity muscle. And honestly, he wasn't even looking for it when he managed to inhale something new and unfamiliar – fresh cut grass and zesty lemon zinging across his tastebuds. It was a few hours old, but strong enough to linger.

"Someone else has been here. Someone new."

Much to Jared's surprise, Jensen didn't shy away from the accusation. He simply nodded and answered the question, albeit with the hint of a challenge in his voice. "Rob. Another friend with a particular Talent. If I'm going to see things through I'm going to require Rob's expertise here and there."

"You seem to have quite a few friends popping up at the moment…"

Jensen smirked, but it wasn't the cute, playful type of smirk. It held far too much bitterness for that. "Not as many as you might think."

"Oh? Sounds like there's a story in there somewhere."

"Only in so far as that I used to have more friends, but Jeff's taken them all away from me. One by one." 

"You mean he killed them, or…?" Jared almost dared not ask, but he had to know.

"Some he killed. Others he may as well have. Infecting their minds like a virus… or just picking at their thoughts and memories until there was nothing left… He likes to watch the light go out in their eyes."

"I'm sorry." And he was. Truly, truly sorry. Having to witness that sort of stuff first-hand was a hell of a thing. "I suppose he tried to do that to you too, huh?"

A half-choked laugh escaped from Jensen's mouth. "Not just tried. He _succeeded_." 

Jared blinked, genuinely confused. "But… that's impossible. You're here. And you're _sane_."

"The 'sane' part's debatable, but believe me when I say I have no idea how. I wish I did, 'cause maybe then I would've been able to better come to grips with things. Maybe I wouldn't have run like I did, I could've turned and faced him and ended the madness already. I wasn't going to tell you this but…" Jensen swallowed, his jaw clenching as he steeled himself, "I was under Jeff's control for a long time. Entire years. I didn't even realise what had happened, that I'd become little more than a puppet, Jeff pulling all my strings… I was practically a fully functioning zombie."

"So, your career as a thief was…?"

"All thanks to one Jeffrey Dean Morgan. It was pretty innocent at first. Taught me some basic illusions and had me stealing small things here and there. It was fun and I enjoyed the challenge. But then somewhere along the way I started losing my own ideals and my own motivations. Once I started experimenting with my power and Jeff started to see how skilled I really was, my thought processes became not my thought processes anymore. It went on for so long and I was completely unaware of it. I wasn't _able_ to be aware of it. If Jeff called, I'd go. Anywhere, anytime, no questions asked. He used me in every way a person can be used and I couldn't fight back…"

It took a moment for Jared to take in the significance of those last few words, and it made him sick to his stomach. "But you escaped, right? That's why you're on the run."

"It's a little more complicated than that, but yes, basically. I was sent to steal this one particular artefact, something magically powerful, and I don't know what it was or what I did, but something just kinda clicked in my head. I suddenly started having individual thoughts again. At first it was seriously fucking scary, and hiding it from JD was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Somehow I managed, though, and somehow I got my shit together and with Chris's help I was able to get the fuck outta there."

"So Chris is in the business, huh?" Jared tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but wasn't entirely sure he succeeded, "I can't say I'm surprised."

"Chris handles information. For a long time he was working almost exclusively for Jeff, but when I told him what had been going on he secretly started playing double-agent, undermining the Circle of Magnitude from the inside."

"The Circle of Magnitude? Sounds like a villainous corporation from an old spy movie or something."

"You're not entirely off-base." There was a flicker of something vaguely like a smile on Jensen's lips, but then it was gone again. "It's what Jeff calls his network of followers and associates. Some are High Levelers, others have high standing because of their money or the companies they own, but _all_ of them are power hungry. There's no low they won't stoop to to get what they want – think trafficking if powered people, black market magic trading, or stolen power like with Tom. Mirage Team 2 has been trying to expose them for a long goddamn time. I used to hear all about how 'hilarious' it was when someone from the Circle took them for a ride. Or worse."

Exhaling deeply, Jared finally pulled his hands from his pockets, running his fingers through his hair and attempting to clear his head. Jensen had been caught up in some heavy shit, with some scum-of-the-earth type people looming over him. He couldn't even imagine what it must have been like, what it would do to a person's head. Jeff's influence notwithstanding. "Chris has been dishing on them though, right?"

"You bet. Mirage Team 2 wouldn't know half of what they do about Jeff and the Circle if it wasn't for Chris. They probably don't know that, though. Chris only deals with one particular contact – some spunky woman with spiky brown hair and a bunch of piercings."

"It's not… Kim?"

"Um, yeah? That rings a bell—"

"That's just… wow. I knew she was High Level but she's the head of IT so I always thought she was just a bit of a glorified geek, y'know? Holy shit. Do you know any other names?"

"There's a redhead called Annie or Anna or something."

"Anna? She's one of the FBI's Seers. I've never seen her in person before, though."

"And there's a guy that Chris calls 'shit-talking blonde asshole' but I don't know his actual name—"

" _Chad?_ Are you fucking _kidding_ me?"

Sitting himself down alongside Jensen, Jared tried to pick his jaw up off the floor. His brain was going a hundred miles an hour as it ran through all the other people that could possibly be involved with the Mirage Team, at the same time trying to reconcile what he thought he knew about his friend – Chad was a Level 8 (so far as he knew) and had pretty good standing in the OC Division, but he always came across as such a complete dick and incapable of rational thought… it just didn't compute. 

Jared felt like he'd been played, even though he'd barely had time to get used to the idea of the Mirage Team and his first encounter with Chris had only been a day ago. The whole thing was messing with his head. Just, thankfully, not the same kind of 'messing with' that Jensen had experienced. He couldn't even conceive of how a person could come back from that sort of condition. Jared had seen his fair share of mind magic victims throughout his years at the FBI and he knew how not-pretty it was, and despite that some of them did manage to improve a little after proper treatment, there was no such thing as a mind-absent person being 'cured'. It just didn't happen. There was only so much damage the brain could sustain before the cogs just stopped turning the right way, if not altogether.

Twisting to the side, Jared put his hand down onto the sheets and stared at the small distance that separated the two of them. If he spread out his fingers he probably could have touched both Jensen's thigh as well as his own, building a bridge of connection. He didn't, though. After what had happened the day before… touching might not have been a good idea. The last thing he needed was Jensen going catatonic just from touching his hand. Right now Jensen's wellbeing was imperative – Jared knew in his gut that things were starting to come to a head, and Jensen's power and skills would be needed more than ever. He might not have known the extent of the Mirage Team's capabilities (let alone the people involved) but there was no doubt in his mind that Jensen somehow had the edge on them.

"Everything about you and your life seems impossible."

Jensen raised a brow, looking a little unsure. 

"Everything?"

"You know what I mean."

"Do I? I mean, to me it's just… It is what it is. It's normal."

"Well, then your version of normal is weird."

"No, _you're_ weird."

"How am _I_ the weird one in this scenario?"

"There's plenty of weird about you."

"But I—"

"Shhhh."

Jared's next words got trapped in his mouth as a finger pressed down on his lips, immediately freezing him up. 

"It's okay, Jared. I like weird." 

Shuffling around on the bed, Jensen suddenly brought his body in closer, _much_ closer, than Jared was prepared for. They weren't touching, not yet, but it was a close run thing. He could feel the heat rolling off Jensen's body, and could smell the sweat on his skin along with the whispers of his magic in the air. Then Jensen lifted his knees onto the mattress and levered himself up, hovering over Jared's shoulder, his breath trickling down the side of Jared's neck.

"Jensen, what are you doing?"

"Chris said I had to talk. So I talked. A lot. But now I'm done with the talking, you feel me?"

Jared frowned. "So you're deflecting."

"Hell yes I'm deflecting. Not to mention I've had blue balls since yesterday 'cause even though Chris has a perfectly great dick it wasn't the dick I really wanted and I actually stopped him from getting in my pants, which is _not_ something I make a habit of doing."

It took several long moments for sound to return to Jared's voice. He angled his head up and tried to look Jensen in the eye without actually looking Jensen in the eye. Because that would be just a little too much a little too soon.

"Um, wow… so you… you really want me?"

Jensen grinned like the cat that caught the canary. "You want me too, right? Chris said you did and he's usually right about these things."

"Yeah, I do. Want you, I mean. But what about yesterday? When I touched you, you went all…"

"My magic was unstable. I couldn't regulate properly and I recharged too quickly."

"Recharged?" The heat that had been building in Jared's stomach seemed to wash away in all of a moment. "But… that doesn't make sense? We were inside?"

Jensen sat back on his heels with a huff. "Unless I maybe told a little white lie somewhere along the line…"

A moment of silence passed with Jared feeling like the rug had been ripped out from under him. 

"You _lied_ about your Source? You… you're fucking with me, right? I know I said everything was impossible when it came to you but this is just a whole 'nother level of outrageous." 

"I'm not fucking with you. Promise."

"Then what on earth—"

"Look. There's actually another reason Chris wanted me to talk to you, okay? He wanted me to tell you specifically about my Source… as a kind of test. To prove that I really trusted you, and to see how much you trust me back." When Jared couldn't find anything to say, Jensen gave an awkward shrug of his shoulders and continued. "My Source is human touch. Skin to skin. But it can't just be with the first guy I run into on the street. I have to… feel strongly for whoever it is. Usually I can just make do with having lots of sex, but it's always easier if it's someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Jared forced himself to meet Jensen's eyes, and he searched them for a new level of honesty. The kind of honesty that couldn't be faked or talked around or ignored. Because if Jensen was implying what he _thought_ he was implying… there could be no lying about that. Jared would never forgive him.

"I feel very strongly about you, Jared. I, um… I don't know if it's love yet, but it's getting there."

Blinking back the burning in his eyes, Jared took a deep breath and reached out. 

"So if I… Is it okay?"

Nodding, Jensen took Jared's hand in his own and squeezed. Skin to skin.

"I'm good now. Got it all under control."

Jared didn't think he was imagining the colour infusing Jensen's cheeks. But whether it was because of the recharging or something else altogether, who could say. He couldn't stop himself from wanting to get a closer look, and he used Jensen's hold on him to drag him in closer until their noses were touching. After that it was just a natural progression for their lips to meet, Jensen sighing into his mouth as Jared's free hand curled around the back of Jensen's neck, holding him steady.

Falling back onto the bed, Jared dragged Jensen down with him, bodies sprawling across the sheets. Their lips parted and both of them were panting, Jared breathing in the humid air drifting across his face. And maybe he was imagining it, but he could have sworn he was inhaling the scent of Jensen's magic, tasting that particular flavour of spiced honey on his tongue, even though the watch on his wrist told him that there was no active flow of magic occurring.

Throwing a leg over Jared's waist, Jensen had him tightly pinned between his thighs, and Jared's train of thought went straight out the window. Through his own suit pants, through Jensen's jeans, he could feel that they were both getting harder by the minute, and Jared gasped as Jensen started to rock his hips back and forth, his dick catching on the seam of his boxers. Needing something more substantial to hang onto than the bedsheets, Jared's hands started roaming, grasping at the strip on skin between Jensen's shirt and the waistband of his pants. The slope of Jensen's back was perfection made real and Jared could feel the contracting of muscles under his fingertips as Jensen continued to move. He didn't want to ever let go.

The shrill beeping of Jared's phone had them both groaning with annoyance, the moment breaking apart and the heat dying down. Jared lay cursing on the bed for several seconds before he finally reached for his phone, thumbing through the message from Beaver.

"Shit. Why is my life this way?"

"What's the problem?"

"Just a little something I forgot to mention…" Jared sat himself back upright and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, attempting to rub away the frustration. "Organised Crime want to borrow us for a bust. Or, more specifically, they want to borrow _you_ but I have to be there because of the bracelet situation."

"And that's… a bad thing?"

"Stewart, the head of the division, is known for playing fast and loose. Especially when there's something to gain. And this bust would be a big fucking gain for him."

"What's the case?"

"I haven't been told all the details exactly, only that it's something to do with illegal trading of anti-magic weaponry. But it's not that part I'm worried about… Beaver told me that all the higher-ups have seen the CCTV footage from the alleyway. Stewart was 'impressed' and immediately wanted to use you. The Director apparently approves of the idea."

"Meaning he knows what I'm capable of and there's no way out of it."

"Basically."

"I knew this was going to happen," Jensen said with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping, burdened with something that looked like guilt, "Sorry for dragging you into it, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

Jared felt his arms start to tingle as Jensen tugged on his magic, a neon green spark appearing in mid-air. The spark swirled and danced through the air, back and forth, up and down, and then it started to draw. Shapes began appearing in its wake. Shapes that at first looked unfamiliar, but Jared soon caught on – they were symbols of magic. The symbols people used to build spells, either by drawing or tracing or thinking them. Jared recognised some of the shapes immediately, while others were completely unknown to him. But then again, he didn't know all that many. As someone who was barely a Level 3, he could only manage to utilise the most simple of spells, and he couldn't build anything more complicated than a two-component spell. It hindered him greatly, since a lot of commonly used spells generally had between three and six components. More complicated ones could use up to ten, or more again if the spell was directly related to a person's Talent.

"So, uh, that spell I used on Tom?" Jensen finally spoke again. The words were hesitant, as if he almost couldn't bear to say them, "It's a spell I created myself… One with sixteen components." 

The green symbols hovering in the air suddenly organised themselves into a neat and tidy box with sixteen squares. They pulsed rapidly, like a busted lightbulb, before fading back into nothingness. 

"Some people are better at identifying spell weaves than others. This Stewart guy probably realises I have a knack for the complicated stuff. Richings probably sees it too."

Jared swallowed, trying to push past the alarm bells going off in the back of his mind. A sixteen-component spell was next to impossible, let alone one Jensen created _himself_. "So, what do we do?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice. Do you?"

~

Returning to FBI HQ, Jared had barely taken a step into the elevator when he found himself face-to-face with none other than the Director. 

"Ah, young Jared. Just the person I wanted to see."

His appearance was striking and fear-inducing on a good day, but it was the cloying, hot-vegetable-soup smell of his magic that had Jared's voice catching in his throat. Jensen aside, the Director's was some of the strongest and most potent magic he'd ever encountered. The thought that this man could get into his (or anyone's) head quicker than he could blink was a frightening prospect, and thinking back on what Jensen had just told him about Jeff Morgan only made him all the more wary. Richings could so easily expose him if he wanted to, dig into his brain and lift out his feelings for Jensen, the leeway he'd granted him, the secrets they'd shared, and undo everything that had been done... Jared could practically feel the knots of tension tying themselves where he stood.

"Calm yourself. I promise to keep my probing strictly verbal. For now, at least."

"Uh. Good to know."

The Director stared at him, face plain and unreadable, yet Jared still felt like he was being laughed at somehow. 

Reaching over, Richings swiped his personnel card against the sensor and the elevator started to move. Jared truly had no idea what he was in for, and he had to assume that it was nothing good. The Director was who he was, but that didn't mean Jared had to trust him or his motives.

"I want to show you something. I'll be honest and admit that I do have an agenda, but I'm going to keep it to myself for the minute."

Nodding, Jared stared at the doors and tried to pretend that the situation wasn't anything out of the ordinary, that it was just any other day and any other random meeting with the Director. Which was, frankly, a pretty big fucking stretch of the imagination. When the elevator came to a stop and he followed the Director out, Jared did his best to keep track of where they were going, just in case he needed to make a run for it. But after the fourth or fifth turn through a maze of hallways that all seemed to look the same, he had little choice but to give up.

"Here we are."

Richings came to a stop in front of a nondescript looking door and ushered Jared in first. The sight that greeted him… Jared was in no way prepared for it.

Half a dozen 'cells' were lined up along the wall – and that was surely what they were, some sort of specially modified jail cell, locked away where no one would find them. They sat side by side, the front panels completely transparent, so there was nowhere to hide. 

Three of them were occupied – a woman, and two men. One of whom was Tom. All three possessed the blank stares of the textbook mind magic victim, the sort that had had their brains turned to mush, with no hope of recovery. Except that Jared could see the medical charts hanging out the front of the cells, clear as day. And medical charts meant that there was medicine involved. Drugs, perhaps. Or procedures. _Something_ was being done to these three people and fuck knew what that could possibly be.

A stone dropped into the pit of Jared's stomach making his insides roll, acid rising up to the back of his throat. What the fuck was going on here?

"Sorry sights, are they not? Pitiful really."

Richings paced back and forth in front of the cells, looking at each of the occupants as if they were a bug under a microscope, and with just as much sympathy. 

Perhaps it _was_ pitiful to see them this way, but as far as Jared was concerned, they were still people. Still deserving of some semblance of dignity. If they were criminals, then so be it, but that didn't make them fair game to participate in whatever experiments the FBI was conducting. And from what he knew of the Director, he was more than capable of doing some very terrible things without it weighing too deeply on his conscience. He probably still slept like a damn baby.

"This isn't right."

"Of course it's not," Richings agreed, though Jared didn't think they were referring to quite the same thing. "All three of these vegetables were once fully-functioning people. But then monsters like Jeffrey Morgan get their hands on them and turn their brain matter into melted Swiss cheese. We investigate them, test them, treat them with anything and everything, but nothing ever seems to work… Then I start to hear whispers about one of Morgan's associates. An associate that just happens to land in our lap, like a gift from the gods. An extraordinary escape artist who just happens to have emerged out the other end of Morgan's brainwashings with nary a scratch. Quite curious, don't you think?"

Jared clenched his jaw. _This fucker hasn't got a clue_. He wanted to scream it out, but he held his tongue.

"You will make him take part in this assignment with Organised Crime, and he _will_ prove that he can handle whatever we ask of him. He fails, you fail. Understand? Somewhere in that mind of his, Jensen has all the answers I seek. I intend to dig them out, one way or the other."

Richings left the room in a hurry, leaving Jared to stare shakily at the three victims in their cages – one picking at the hem of their hospital gown, another lightly banging their head against the wall, and Tom… clutching at his hair as though he wanted to rip it all out. And Jared wouldn't blame him if he did. His hair was probably the least of his worries.

"Agent? You okay there?"

Jared turned to find a security guard staring up at him, concern on his face. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little shook up I guess."

"Understandable. It's pretty confronting. Not very nice of the Director to shove it in your face like that."

"He was making a point. So, received loud 'n' clear, I guess."

"If you say so." The guard scratched at his beard and gave Jared a strange look. "Say, you're not Padalecki, are ya? The one roped to that Level 10 kid? The thief?"

Jared sighed. "He has a name."

"I'm sure he does. Now, why don't you come on back with me? I think you've been in here long enough."

+///+

Two days later found Jensen in the thick of it, the Organised Crime team having conned him into an impossible scenario.

He stood before a black market dealer, magically-enhanced weapon in hand, trying to get the bastard to agree to a deal. He was using his own magic to keep the product looking a whole lot more impressive than it really was, while attempting to use a few light-based tricks to affect the guy's judgement. Jensen had thought it would work a treat, but this 'Rosie' asshole was testing him. And he was running out of time.

"Okay, I'm sold."

_Fucking finally._

"Excellent. You won't regret it. Let me put down my details and you can wire me the money." 

/ _All units, move in._ /

The notification bounced through Jensen's ears, interrupting his concentration, and next thing he knew one of Rosie's lookouts was shouting out a warning. Goddamnit.

Jensen shielded himself just in time to deflect a shower of ice shards, then gave chase as Rosie leapt out a side window. He couldn't let this bastard get away.

"Stay on him, Jensen!"

Jared's voice sounded from about fifty yards back, and so he kept running, knowing that backup was on the way. 

They twisted and turned through the back streets, only coming to a stop when Rosie eventually steered himself into a corner. 

"There's nowhere to run now, buddy," Jensen said calmly, noting that the guy was looking a little more agitated than he'd like. "Just give it up and let us take you in. No big deal."

"I'm not going anywhere with the Feds! Just try and take me!"

"Jensen…?"

Glancing to his side he saw Jared easing into the alley, his hands raised in surrender. 

"He's gonna do something stupid, Jen. You think you can get him before he gets us?"

"I…"

He'd already known he was at his limit, but the near-silent crack that sounded the moment he started powering up, it might as well have been as loud as a thunder clap.

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't do it, Jared. I can't use my magic."

"Why the hell not?"

Gritting his teeth, Jensen grabbed at his left arm and ripped the glamour away. "This is fucking why."

"Jesus Christ. What happened—"

"He's powering up, Jared!"

Jared cursed as he turned back toward Rosie, who was building up something icy cold in the palms of his hands. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he pulled his anti-magic weapon and fired just in time, sending Rosie careening to the ground. Jensen fell to his knees in relief.

A shadow loomed over his shoulder, and Jensen squeezed his eyes shut.

"What's wrong with your arm? And what's that cuff you're wearing? It looks like a drainer."

"That's 'cause it is."

A moment later Jensen was staring into hazel eyes, Jared looking at his with confusion and despair.

"You're already wearing one."

"It's not enough. Not for me. I've been wearing my own drainers for years."

"Why? You have to tell me."

"Because the world believes that Level 10s are as big as it gets. But what happens when you're more than that? There's a whole other world of power out there, Jay. A world of 11s and 12s… and then there's me."

"And what are you?"

"I'm a 13. The one and only, as far as I know."

"There you are, being impossible again."

"I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"I know. Should we be calling Chris now?"

"And Rob. He's the only one who can fix me."

"You don't need fixing."

"I think the Director and the OC team might beg to differ."

Jared wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him.

 

+///+

 

Jensen was a bad person.

In that moment, he knew it with absolute certainty. 

His mouth was occupied with Jared's lips and tongue, delving in deep, tasting beyond the magic. Their bodies were skin on skin and sticky with sweat. Jared's shoulder's, so perfectly broad, hovered above him, moving in time with his hips. 

It couldn't have been a more blissful moment, coloured with desperation and weeks of secret yearning.

And yet, there was another man on Jensen's mind.

Jeffrey Dean. Jensen's very own angel from hell. The phantom that haunted his thoughts all day, every day. He didn't know how he knew, but Jensen could just sense that he was close. Maybe even close enough to breathe down his neck. It was just the sort of thing Jeff would do – hound him until he snapped. For good, this time.

"Hey. You with me?" A hand cupped the side of Jensen's face, stealing back his attention. 

"Of course."

Jared smiled knowingly. 

"Just let me have you for a few more minutes, okay? Just a few. Then you can go back to your worries and your secrets."

"Oh?" Jensen perked up, pursing his lips, "What secrets would those be?"

"The ones you still haven't told me? I know there'll always be something. It's just the way you are."

Jensen pulled their mouths together before he could say anything more, letting Jared distract him with his hips. Things got louder, and rougher, before fizzling out into silence again. It was only when he was absolutely sure that Jared was asleep that he gathered his things and escaped out the window.

 

+///+

 

He should have known.

Waking to find Jensen's side of the bed cold and unslept in…

He should have known. 

Jared hurried into the office, probably still stinking like sweat and sex, but he couldn't have cared less. Bringing up the tracking data on his computer screen turned out to be a dead end. He didn't know how Jensen had done it, but he'd blocked the GPS signal. Apparently there was a spell for that.

He'd thought at first that Jensen must have ditched his bracelet altogether in order to escape, but then that tingling sensation… through his arms and up into his shoulders… it was still there. He couldn’t track it, but he could still feel that Jensen was using magic. They were still connected.

 

+///+

 

Jensen didn't know what he was thinking, returning to the FBI. Only Jared could possibly have convinced him to do it, and that's exactly what had happened. He'd gotten a text that morning, Jared begging him to come in, and something about it hadn't sounded right.

Which meant that he had no choice.

Standing out the front of the entrance to HQ, Jensen unravelled the spell that he'd been using to hide himself and cast it to the ground like old clothes. He hadn't known what to expect at that moment, but it surely hadn't been Jared, walking out toward him in broad daylight.

"Jared? How did you know I was…" Those eyes, that thousand-yard stare… "You're not Jared."

"Oh, but he is."

Seeing Jeff step out from behind him, Jensen nearly felt his knees go out from under him. 

"You motherfucker."

"Now, now… What have I said before about language?"

Turning back to Jared, Jensen threw his voice in loud and hard. "You can fight this, Jared! Snap out of it!"

"Cute that you think you can save him."

From far away Jensen could hear people gathering around, nearby agents drawing their weapons. The MID and the Mirage Team would be there soon if they weren't already.

"You won't get away this time. You're over."

Jeff put his hand around Jared's neck, his fingernails digging in deep. "Are you so sure about that?"

It seemed to happen in slow motion, that Jared's hand moved, and Jensen felt his body fill with power. He screamed as it burned up inside him, the anger and the pain and the power. And he pushed it all towards the one singular target.

He didn't even wait for the air to clear before he was running toward Jared, catching him as he started to fall. Jared's bracelet was off his wrist and hanging from his fingers – no longer connected and no longer controlling his power.

"You need to go. Before they catch you."

"Jared, I—"

"Go, damn you!"

Jensen pressed their lips together one last time.

+///+

 

When Jared came to, it was to the worried faces of his team all looking down at him from above. 

There was something on his face – an oxygen bubble? – and a medic on the ground next to him, her hands weaving a healing cloud over his body. 

He could hear the hushed whispers, something about Jensen being a crook all along, and something about a seizure, but Jared's head was so clouded he couldn't quite put it all together.

"Jared, son, are you alright?"

Beaver kneeled down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I think so?"

The superior's eyes creased as he frowned.

"You wanna rethink that answer, champ?"

As Jared looked down at the glow emanating from his hands, he realised that he was the one causing it. He sat up with a jolt, nearly sending the medic sprawling. But he couldn't even make himself take the time to say sorry. Not when there was so much power punching through his body. More power than he'd even felt in his life. And it wasn't giving him a migraine.

"Boy," Beaver groused, shaking his head, "that Jensen really did a number on you."

Jared grinned to himself, turning his palms over and over as he inspected his hands. 

_He really did._

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the rushed ending, but I had a deadline! Please come back in a couple of days for the rewritten version....


End file.
